Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
The day Ethan Hayes and I got back together, a new message popped up in our high school alumni group chat.
He was bringing his girlfriend to this year’s reunion.
My head snapped up.
Ethan had just come out of the hotel bathroom, running a hand through his still-damp hair, one brow lifting at me as he walked over.
“Not tired yet?” he said. “Want to go another round?”
“You have a girlfriend?” My voice came out so soft it barely sounded like mine.
He paused, caught off guard for a second, then casually picked up his phone. “Forgot you were in that chat too. She’s young, insecure. Wants to meet my old friends and family circle.”
I said nothing.
I just bent down and started gathering my clothes from the floor, piece by piece, and pulled them back on.
He leaned against the headboard and watched me, then, impatient, lit a cigarette.
“What are you acting like this for? It’s not like this is our first time.” His eyes narrowed, cold and mocking. “Vanessa, you didn’t seriously take me for some nice guy waiting around to play cleanup, did you?”
Taking my clothes off had been reckless. Putting them back on felt like humiliation, one piece at a time.
I forced myself to stand, trying to look composed, but my legs were so weak and sore that I lost my balance and hit the thick carpet of the luxury hotel suite before I could catch myself.
Ethan laughed.
I opened my eyes in a daze, and the first thing I saw was my torn pantyhose hanging off the side of a chair—limp and twisted like a dead snake stripped of all dignity.
“Vanessa, this is getting pathetic.”
His voice came from behind me, edged with mockery. I could feel his gaze on me, sharp enough to cut through skin.
I didn’t answer. I just reached for my blouse on the floor and pulled it on with numb, mechanical movements.
He gave a small smile, then got up and came over as if he were being considerate. He even fastened my buttons for me, one by one, looking down at me from above.
“Well,” he said lightly, “I’d say we finally settled one of our old regrets. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
I looked up at him, my eyes burning.
“So that’s what you were thinking when we ran into each other again six months ago?”
That this—sleeping together at last—was just his way of making up for what we never did back in high school?
Six months ago, Ethan came to Chicago on a business trip, and we ran into each other again at a client dinner.
That night, the client got me drunk on purpose, and Ethan was the one who stepped in and got me out of it.
Everything after that had felt natural, inevitable. To pick me up from work on time, he would take three trains and then a bus just to wait downstairs outside my office.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
For months, he did it without fail, rain or shine.
Later, I started spending more and more evenings curled up on his couch, watching movies until midnight. When I fell asleep, he would gently pat my shoulder and wake me.
“Easy,” he’d murmur. “I’ll take you home.”
I’d reach out and scratch at his chest through his dress shirt.
He would catch my hand, looking helpless and amused. “Don’t start. We barely get to see each other. I don’t want to hurt you.”
So that was all it had been.
What I’d taken for respect, for restraint, for tenderness, was nothing more than his attempt to make up for some clean, unfinished regret from our teenage years.
And now?
He’d had enough fun. He wanted to sleep with me, and he had.
That was all.
And I—because of one sentence from him, one soft complaint, “Vanessa, I can’t stand doing long distance with you”—had used the New Year holiday to break my lease and hand in my resignation at work, telling my company I was going back to my hometown to get married.
When he found out, he sent me only one text.
Room 3003, Grandview Hotel. I’ll be waiting.
I didn’t think twice. I dressed carefully, ran out the door, and hurried here with my heart racing.
When my mom chased after me, I’d even waved back at her and called out, “I’ll bring your future son-in-law home!”
Everything had seemed ready to fall into place exactly the way I’d imagined.
And now he was telling me it had all been an act?
Instinctively, I grabbed his hand. “Okay, Ethan, enough. It’s New Year’s. Don’t joke like that. I’ll take it seriously.”
He looked at me and said, flatly, “Chloe Bennett. She’s an anchor for the local TV news.”
Every word landed like a blow.
“I spent over two years chasing her before she finally said yes. Vanessa, you can come support me if you want, but don’t ruin the mood.”
Over two years.
Longer than the time since we’d met again.
He gave me a full name, a job, a public identity. On the fifth day of the holiday, she was going to appear officially at his side.
I was the intruder.
I stood there in a daze, listening, my eyes stinging before I even realized I was about to cry.
Then, suddenly, he looked shocked.
He stumbled backward a few steps and lifted both hands as if surrendering.
“Vanessa… wait. You’re serious?” His voice changed. “No. Don’t. Honestly, this is making me uncomfortable.”
“I admit it—I did like you back then, but—”
He kept backing away until he dropped down onto the edge of the bed. Something under him jabbed his hip. He frowned, reached behind himself, and pulled it out.
My missing shapewear.
The Spanx-style piece I’d been searching for.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
He held it in his hand, turning it over carelessly, and the words came out of his mouth as easily as breathing.
“My girlfriend’s not like you. She’s only twenty-three. She doesn’t need this stuff.”
He looked up at me.
“Vanessa, she’s innocent. She’s not like you—out in the world, been through everything, up for anything, totally uninhibited.”
All the blood seemed to drain out of me in an instant.
At the same time, fireworks exploded outside the hotel window—huge, dazzling, obscenely bright.
In the flicker of light and shadow, it felt like my face had been swallowed whole by some beast, dragging me down into an even darker abyss.
I blinked hard until the sting in my eyes eased, then turned back to Ethan and forced a smile that refused to admit defeat.
“Okay. I get it.”
If he wanted to paint me as the kind of woman who could play around and walk away, then fine. I wasn’t about to let him see me break.
He lit a cigarette after sex and narrowed his eyes at me. “Isn’t that what this is? You had your fun out there, and now you want to find some decent guy to settle for?”
He gave a short, mocking laugh. “Once you say it out loud, it really kills the mood, doesn’t it?”
He flicked ash carelessly. “Bottom line, we both had a good time. Don’t make this hard for me.”
Then, as if he hadn’t done enough, he added, “Even if I did marry you, I wouldn’t be satisfied. I’d cheat on you sooner or later anyway.”
The very last shred of hope inside me finally blew away.
My tears came anyway, humiliating and hot.
Something deep in my chest kept screaming in protest.
Anyone else would have been better.
Why?
Why did it have to be Ethan?
“Okay,” I heard myself say, strangely calm. “I won’t bother you again.”
I bent down and gathered up the scraps of clothing scattered everywhere, stuffing them all into the trash can in one angry sweep.
I’d take them downstairs and throw them away myself.
I wouldn’t leave them here—left exposed across the wrecked bed, the floor, the corners of the room—for hotel staff to see and laugh at.
I was almost at the door when Ethan came after me. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his warm breath landing on the top of my head.
“Vanessa,” he murmured, “I’m getting engaged around New Year’s. The wedding’s not for another six months after that. It’s not like you’re going to find someone new that fast, right?”
His voice turned lazy, intimate, vile. “We work well together, don’t we? Bottling it up isn’t good for you.”