Ten Years for Nothing, A Second for Forever

Ten Years for Nothing, A Second for Forever

Daisy Swift · Completed · 7.0k Words

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Introduction

"We're done, Arthur."

That was how I ended a ten-year relationship with my childhood sweetheart.

He didn't take it seriously. He just smirked and asked, "How many days is this tantrum going to last? Three? A week?"

Then, his phone lit up. It was her—the helpless scholarship student he had been protecting.

"I'm on my way," he promised her softly, turning his back on me without a second thought.

He walked away, assuming I would always be his safety net.

What he didn't realize was that my answer was forever.

Ten years of being his fool, and I was finally cutting the cord.

Chapter 1

"We're done, Arthur."

That was how I ended a ten-year relationship with my childhood sweetheart.

He didn't take it seriously. He just smirked and asked, "How many days is this tantrum going to last? Three? A week?"

Then, his phone lit up. It was her—the helpless scholarship student he had been protecting.

"I'm on my way," he promised her softly, turning his back on me without a second thought.

He walked away, assuming I would always be his safety net.

What he didn't realize was that my answer was forever.

Ten years of being his fool, and I was finally cutting the cord.

 ...

Back in my dorm room, I stared at the paper sitting on my desk: Business School Elite Leadership Program Transfer Application.

My mind inevitably pulled me back to three days ago.

Right before the Welcome Gala, my car broke down twenty miles out from campus.

Fourteen degrees out. And a blizzard.

Shivering in a backless gown and stiletto heels, I called him.

"Arthur, my car died. You said you were coming to get me?"

But I stood shaking in the snow for an hour and a half before I finally got his text:

Something came up. Call a tow truck yourself.

Even then, I instinctively made excuses for him in my head. Maybe there was a real emergency?

Until I opened Instagram. The first post on my feed felt like a slap to the face.

In the photo, Lily was nestled right against Arthur's chest. The caption read: Thank you for making me feel safe in a school so full of prejudice.

He was out playing white knight to another girl.

I don't even know how I fought off the hypothermia long enough to find a ride to the gala.

Pushing open those heavy double doors, the very first thing I saw was my boyfriend affectionately tucking a stray strand of hair behind Lily's ear.

They looked so intimate. Like they were the golden couple.

"You didn't come to get me." I walked right up to them, my voice hoarse from the freezing cold.

Arthur turned. Seeing my disheveled state, his brows instantly pulled together. "What happened to you? Didn't I tell you to call a cab?"

He completely brushed off his broken promise, naturally pulling Lily half-behind him in a protective stance. "Well, since you're here, let me introduce you. This is Lily, the scholarship student I sponsor. She's new to all this, never been to an event like this before, so I brought her to show her the ropes."

He looked at me, a clear warning in his eyes. "Don't give me that jealous look. Be the bigger person, Vivi."

Lily shrank further behind Arthur. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip, her voice trembling. "Am I taking up your time? I'm so sorry... I was just so nervous. I've never been to a gala like this before..."

I stared at Lily, my tone ice-cold. "You don't have the right to speak to me. This is an invite-only event. Who let you in?"

Lily's tears immediately spilled over. Looking utterly victimized, she covered her face and began to sob.

Arthur's face darkened. He grabbed my wrist, hard.

"Vivian! Are you crazy? Drop the elitist bullshit and stop bullying her! Apologize to Lily, now!"

Whispers rippled through the surrounding crowd.

In our circle, there was nothing people loved more than watching the untouchable queen fall from grace, except maybe a cheap underdog story.

"Apologize?" I let out a cold laugh, violently jerking my wrist out of his grip.

"Never."

I spun around and pushed my way out to the terrace, the freezing air slicing into my lungs like glass. The second I forced the doors shut behind me, the tears I'd been holding back all night finally spilled over.

But through the glass terrace doors, I saw it. I watched Lily stand on her tiptoes and press her lips against Arthur's.

And the worst part? Arthur didn't push her away. Not immediately.

He hesitated.

That single second sent a worse chill through my bones than standing out in the blizzard. That second pulverized everything—the love, the patience, the endless compromises I had made for him since we were kids—into absolute dust.

By the time he finally pushed her back and frantically scanned the room for me, I was already gone, leaving the gala without a single backward glance.

Over the next three days, I went from heart-wrenching pain to absolute, hollow numbness. I waited. I waited for Arthur to come explain that hesitation. To apologize for leaving me out in the cold.

He never did.

Instead, for three solid days, Arthur played the knight in shining armor, parading Lily all over campus. Yesterday, he defended her in the dining hall. Today, he intercepted drinks for her at a mixer.

The university forums were flooded with threads about them: The Star Quarterback and the Poor Cinderella. Meanwhile, I was painted as the bitter, jealous, toxic ex-girlfriend with a massive superiority complex.

I remembered being sixteen. The summer he first kissed me by the pool and swore, "I'm only ever going to marry you."

Right. And for that promise, I compromised. Just because he once said, "When I make it to the NFL, I'll need someone I trust to handle my business," I defied my parents and switched my major to PR and Arts.

Ding. My phone lit up with an Instagram notification.

In the video, Arthur was draping his varsity jacket over Lily's shoulders. The girl looked down with a shy, syrupy smile. Arthur stared at her, his eyes practically glowing with his own self-satisfied savior complex.

Staring at the face that used to make my heart race, I lowered my eyes back to the application form.

Without a shred of hesitation, I signed my name.

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