Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
On the hundred and eighth day after your fifth confession finally worked, you accidentally overhear someone ask, “Olivia Hart is back. What are you going to do about Sophie?”
Ethan Sterling answers in that lazy, indifferent voice of his. “Break up with her, obviously.”
“If she hadn’t been the one throwing herself at me back then, and if I hadn’t lost that bet to you guys, who would’ve bothered dragging this out with her?”
Your hand freezes on the doorknob.
This is the man you’ve liked for an entire year.
The late-autumn chill creeps up from your fingertips, sliding into your blood until every inch of you goes cold. Even breathing starts to hurt.
Not once had you imagined that Ethan agreeing to date you had only been the result of some ridiculous bet.
The laughter inside keeps coming, each burst of it stabbing into your ears like needles.
“I told you from the start,” someone says. “Sophie’s the type who falls for any scrap of attention. Some guy confessed to her before just because he picked up her notebook once, and she remembered him forever.”
“Exactly. Last time Ethan stepped in for her at the bubble tea shop and took a smoothie to the chest, there was no way she wasn’t going to get attached.”
The memory hits you all at once.
A year ago, you were working a shift at the bubble tea shop near campus when a drunk customer started causing trouble. He pointed at your face, cursing at you, then lifted his hand and threw his drink.
Ethan had rushed over and pulled you behind him.
The icy slush splashed all over his white shirt, sticky and humiliating, but he never even looked back. He just stared the man down and told him to get out.
The sun had been fierce that day, outlining his sharp profile in gold. You’d stood behind him with your heart beating wildly, too fast, too loud, completely out of rhythm.
And what stunned you even more was that he knew your name.
Sophie Bennett.
You were both in the School of Business and Economics, but the distance between you had always felt impossibly wide.
He was the top-ranked student in his class, the center of attention on the basketball court. You were just an ordinary girl with average grades, working part-time to cover tuition. You had never even spoken before that day.
Later, you insisted on buying him dinner to thank him, and he didn’t say no.
After that came a few more chance encounters. You worked up the courage to ask him on walks. You gave him homemade snacks. He accepted them all. Sometimes he even started conversations with you about class.
You thought it meant the feeling was mutual.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
So even with the shadow of your fourth failed confession hanging over you, you gathered every bit of courage you had left and offered him your heart one more time.
For half an hour after you sent that message, your palm was slick with sweat around your phone. You barely dared breathe.
Then your screen lit up.
Ethan had replied with five words.
Okay. Let’s do this.
You were so happy you spun in circles three times in the dorm hallway. That night, you lay awake staring at the ceiling until morning, counting the cracks and patterns overhead.
You had no idea that being “chosen” had only been the outcome of a bet.
They had bet that you wouldn’t fall for him just because he stepped in once.
They had bet that you wouldn’t dare confess again.
Ethan lost.
So he had no choice but to date you.
Through the gap in the door, you see him pick up a beer from the table and drain it in one swallow. His throat moves as he drinks, his impatience plain in every motion.
“Whatever,” he says. “A bet’s a bet.”
“Graduation’s in a month anyway. Breaking up now works out fine. Less trouble.”
“Good thing we never made it public. Olivia just broke up with her boyfriend and came back from overseas. I’m not missing my chance this time.”
Your breath catches so hard it feels like choking.
You remember what Ethan said on the first day you got together.
“Let’s keep this quiet until graduation. No need to let it affect your thesis defense. Once things are more settled, we can tell people.”
At the time, you thought he was thoughtful. Considerate. You’d agreed right away, full of secret joy.
Now you understand.
It wasn’t consideration.
He was just afraid the girl who lived in the center of his heart would find out there was a stand-in like you.
You take a step back without making a sound. Your fingers are so cold they barely obey you as you open your messages and text the owner of the bubble tea shop.
I left the documents you wanted outside the door.
Then you open your email and pull up the local company that had already sent you a job offer.
Sorry. Due to a change in my personal plans, I won’t be joining your company. Thank you for the opportunity.
After that, you click into another email and reply to the major tech company in Southport.
Hello, I’d like to confirm my acceptance. I’m looking forward to joining the team.
Before, because you were afraid long distance would damage your relationship, you had turned down Southport’s high-paying offer without hesitation and set your heart on staying in this city with him.
Now, that careful compromise feels almost laughable.
You didn’t cry. Like always, you went back to your dorm and disappeared under your blanket.
Then your phone buzzed.
It was your mother.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
You climbed down from your bed and walked to the end of the hallway before answering, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “Hi, Mom.”
Her voice came through warm and gentle. “Sophie, are you coming home for the summer?”
You froze.
All your life, your parents had never been the ones to ask whether you were coming home.
Every school break, you had been the one to ask carefully, Is it okay if I come back? And the answer was always the same: Your sister needs to study. You should just stay on campus.
For one stupid second, you thought this time was different. Maybe they knew you were graduating. Maybe they missed you.
You twisted the hem of your shirt in your fingers and tested the waters. “Mom, I’m planning to move to Southport after graduation. The job there has a pretty good salary.”
There was a two-second silence on the other end. Then your mother let out what sounded almost like relief.
“Oh, you’re graduating this year?” she said. “Listen to me. Slipping my mind again.”
The June wind drifted in, hot and heavy, but your whole body turned cold, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over your head.
So that was it.
She didn’t miss you. She had forgotten you were graduating.
“Going out of town is good,” your mother said, her voice brightening. “There are more opportunities. Your sister has a boyfriend now, and she’s planning to bring him home for a few days. The place is small, and it’ll be cramped if you come back too.”
Then, as if remembering something else, she added, “Oh, and the things you left out on the balcony—do you still want them? If not, I’ll throw them out. No point letting your sister’s boyfriend see them and think we’re living like paupers.”
The balcony.
That had been the only space in the house that was ever yours.
There had only been one bedroom. Your parents said your older sister was smart, that she needed the room so she could focus and get into a top university. They slept on a mattress in the living room, and starting in middle school, you were sent to boarding school. On the rare occasions you came home, a narrow little bed would be set up for you on the balcony.
Later, when your sister wanted to study abroad, your parents emptied their savings for her. There was nothing left for your college tuition, so they told you to earn it yourself.
Your throat hurt with dryness. You forced the words out one by one.
“No. I don’t want any of it.”
The old clothes, the worn books, the little trinkets you’d saved up to buy with your pocket money—none of it mattered anymore.
There had never really been a place for you in that house.
“Okay, then I’ll toss it later,” your mother said, and hung up in a rush.
You leaned against the cold wall, then slid down until you were crouching on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees. At last, the tears came. They hit the concrete one drop at a time, spreading into tiny dark stains.
You only wanted to be loved.