"I agree. It's probably for the best that we break up."
Ethan was already working himself to exhaustion just to survive.
Did he really need to kill himself trying to please someone who didn't care about his struggles? No
His chest felt lighter as the realization settled in.
What he had with Iris wasn't love.
It was a one-sided transaction.
There was a pause, and he could almost hear Iris's confusion through the silence.
"What the hell? You're not even going to fight for me?"
Ethan frowned, dumbfounded by what he had just heard.
Was she seriously expecting him to beg for someone who only saw him as a wallet?
He remembered the times he'd humiliated himself just to keep her happy.
He had done pathetic things for her in the past in the name of love.
No more.
He responded:
"Is there really anything to fight for?"
Iris gasped.
Her disbelief was palpable now.
"Forget it, " She replied abruptly. "There's no point in talking to you anymore."
"I agree..." Ethan replied flatly.
For a second, there was nothing.
Then—
"You're really going to let me go just like..."
Ethan didn't wait to hear the rest.
He hit the red button, cutting her off mid-sentence, and slid his phone into his pocket.
A strange sense of calm washed over him as he stood.
Iris had expected him to plead, to beg for her to stay.
But why should he?
What exactly was he fighting to keep?
She'd done nothing but take from him. No amount of effort seemed to satisfy her, and all she'd given in return was criticism and demands.
Ethan's lips curled into a wry smile.
Somewhere along the way, he'd started losing confidence in himself because of her.
He wasn't good enough, wasn't rich enough—at least not in her eyes.
Yes, losing her hurt.
The memories of their good times still stung.
But Iris had been a burden disguised as a partner.
In the end, Ethan knew he'd just freed himself from a weight he didn't need to carry anymore.
"Ethan! What are you doing? We have customers waiting!"The sharp voice suddenly cut straight through Ethan's thoughts.
He flinched and spun around.
Mr. Davis—his manager—was storming toward him, face tight with frustration. His suit jacket flared behind him with each step like he meant business.
"I'm sorry!" Ethan said, quickly pulling his phone from his ear and shoving it into his pocket. "I was just taking a phone call!"
Mr. Davis stopped inches away, arms crossing like a wall."Is this what I pay you for?" he barked. "To take personal calls while customers are waiting?"
Ethan lowered his head a bit and nodded quickly."No, sir. It won't happen again. I'll get back to work right away."
He gave a quick bow out of habit—half apology, half survival instinct—then turned and power-walked toward the counter.
The café was buzzing.
Voices overlapped in every direction—orders being taken, drinks being made, conversations flying. Laughter bubbled up from a group near the windows. The air smelled like coffee and caramel and a touch of tension.
As Ethan weaved through the maze of tables, something caught his eye.
A crowd was forming near the far corner of the room. Chairs scraped back. People leaned in, phones raised. Excited whispers rippled through the space like waves hitting a shore.
Ethan glanced over as he passed Wade, his younger coworker, who was balancing a tray stacked with iced coffees and lattes.
"What's going on over there?" Ethan asked, nodding toward the crowd.
Wade didn't even look up. He shifted the tray to one hand like a pro."Oh, some rich dude's proposing to a girl," he said with a sigh. "The crowd's eating it up."
He adjusted his grip and gave a half-smirk."Must be nice to live like that, huh?"
Curiosity tugged at Ethan like a hook in his gut.
Without thinking, he changed direction. He moved toward the crowd, slipping between customers, dodging chairs, edging his way closer. Just a quick look, he told himself.
He squeezed through to the edge of the group, head tilted, eyes scanning for a clear view.
In the center of the commotion stood a man in an immaculate suit, the kind that looked like it belonged in a luxury magazine.
The fabric shimmered under the café's warm lights, making him look like the star of a romance movie.
He was down on one knee.
A velvet box sat in his hands, open like a blooming flower. Inside rested a diamond ring—large, sparkling, and clearly expensive.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
A few people clapped. Others pulled out their phones. Everyone was caught in the moment.
Except Ethan.
His eyes weren't on the man.
They were on the woman standing in front of him.
Her back faced Ethan, hiding her expression.
But there was something about her posture—graceful, poised—that sparked something in his gut.
A strange tug, as if a part of him already knew who she was.
He stepped to the side, quietly, trying to get a better angle.
Her dress shimmered as she moved, catching the light like falling stars. It was elegant, flowing, and familiar. Painfully familiar.
His stomach tightened.
No way.
Ethan's eyes locked onto the dress, his brain flipping through memories like pages in a book.
Then it hit him.
A month ago. That exact dress.
He'd seen it online—on Iris's wishlist.
She said it was a limited edition, just released. She'd begged for it, saying she needed it for a reunion with old friends.
He told her they couldn't afford it.
She pouted. Fell silent. Looked at him like he'd let her down.
So he caved.
Emptied his savings. Told himself it was worth it. For love.
Now here it was—on someone else?
Or… was it?
His breath hitched. His legs moved before he could stop them. He circled around, weaving between tables, heart pounding like a drum.
He needed to be sure.
The woman giggled softly at something the man said.
Then she turned.
Just a glance—no more than a second—but it was enough.
Their eyes met.
She froze.
Ethan did too.
She turned away, then hesitated, and looked again, a puzzled frown forming as if trying to confirm if she'd seen a ghost.
Ethan's blood turned to ice.
His lips parted.
"…Iris?"