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Eight Years, A Twisted Play

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 658    |    Released on: 10/07/2025

out of my daze. It was M

ver to The Black Rose.

against my ribs.

d... well, you should probab

al blow. Of course. The white whale

ying to force the tremor out of

ed on a box sitting on the entryway table. It was filled with our wedding invitations, the ones I

t to be mailed

chen, and emptied the entire contents into the trash can. I didn't

the first real decision I had made

ked, loud music thumping through the walls. As I pushed

e Davis is back?

divorced. Ethan must

n my stomach. I steeled myself, smoothed d

n't feel. A mask of indiff

pped. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. It was like a scene

en I s

iery red hair. He was leaning in close, whispering something in her ear, his face buri

the thousands of photos o

g, breathing reality right in front of me. The betrayal

e a mask of panic. He tri

re you doing?

barely registered Mark's prese

"Leave me alone. Can't you see I'm busy?" Hi

Ethan drunk before, but never like this. This wasn't just drunk; this was

perate. "Ethan, your wedding is

away from Chloe. It was a clumsy, awkward struggle. They w

im to his feet. He stumbled, h

rashed to the floor with a heavy thu

He turned to me, his expression full of apology. "Ava, I'm

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Eight Years, A Twisted Play
Eight Years, A Twisted Play
“"Ava, are you sure about this? The Venice project is a huge commitment. Two years is a long time." My boss asked, as I looked out my office window at the New York skyline, a view I'd worked my whole life to earn. "I'm sure, Mark. I've made up my mind." That's when he casually asked if my wedding to Ethan Hayes was on hold. "No," I said, "There is no wedding." The truth was, my fingers, slick with blood, were fumbling to open Ethan's laptop, hoping to find answers. Instead, I found a folder labeled "C," filled with thousands of photos of Chloe Davis, his high school sweetheart. There wasn't a single folder for me. I searched for photos of us and found a mere handful from a company party two years ago. For eight years, I'd made excuses for him, believing his charming lies. The excuses I'd built, the little walls around my heart, all came crashing down. That wasn't the worst of it. On his social media, Ethan had just posted: "The whale is back in the ocean." Chloe was his Moby Dick, his obsessive pursuit, and she was back. He had used our engagement, our wedding, to win her back. I was a prop in his twisted play. Then, Mark, Ethan's best friend, called, saying Ethan was a mess at The Black Rose. And Chloe was there. I arrived to see Ethan with his arm draped around Chloe, whispering in her ear. "She's not my fiancée!" he slurred, "I'm not marrying anyone." He never really wanted to claim me. I was just a placeholder until the real thing came along. He didn't love me. He never had. My eight-year gamble had failed. I had put all my chips on him, and I had lost everything. The relationship was over. It had been over for a long time; I was just the last one to know. I cancelled the wedding and flew to Venice. But he followed, a ghost from my past, still trying to control me. He even lied, claiming Chloe was faking her illnesses for attention. Then, in a car crash, I fumbled for my phone, desperate for help, and called him. My call went straight to voicemail. I survived, but he wasn't there. When he finally showed up, he apologized, claiming Chloe had a panic attack. "Chloe. Always Chloe." I realized I had made a terrible mistake, relying on him. "We're over, Ethan," I whispered, "This has to stop." I had to put an end to it, once and for all.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 10