EX OR NEXT

*Chapter 5: Ethan Texts“Can We talk?"*

*DAY 16 OF 90*

He found a new number. And a new way to beg.

I woke up to 5 notifications.

All from numbers I didn’t have saved.

_Can we talk?_

_Please_

_I was wrong_

_Just 5 minutes_

_I miss you_

All of them: _Seen._

None of them: _Replied._

Tasha grabbed my phone off the nightstand.

“Block and delete. Contract.”

“What if he’s serious this time?”

She looked at me like I was dumb. “He had two years to be serious. He chose 2am and ‘you’re too much.’”

She was right.

So I blocked all five numbers.

My hands were shaking when I did it.

---

*8:47 PM*

The knock came at 8:47pm.

I already knew who it was.

Tasha was in the shower.

I was on the couch with tea. The contract on the fridge behind me.

Knock. Knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

I opened the door.

Ethan.

Hair messy. Hoodie he’d borrowed from his brother. Eyes red.

Holding two coffees. My order. Oat milk, extra shot.

“Hey,” he said.

I didn’t say anything.

“Can we talk?”

I shook my head.

“Just five minutes,” he said, pushing forward a little. “Please, Chloe.”

I let him in.

Because I was tired of running.

And because I needed to say it to his face.

He stood in Tasha’s living room like he owned it. Like he’d been here a hundred times.

Maybe he had.

“I was stupid,” he started. The words rushed out. “I panicked. You were— you’re too important to me and I freaked out and said dumb s**t. You know I didn’t mean it.”

He set the coffee on the table.

“I miss you. I miss us. Can we just— can we go back? We can go back.”

I looked at him.

Really looked.

This was the boy who used to know all my coffee orders.

Who used to fall asleep on my shoulder in lecture.

Who told me I was too much at 2:13am.

“I’m listening,” I said. My voice was steady.

He exhaled like he’d won.

“Okay. Okay. I messed up. I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking nonstop—”

“Stop.”

He did.

“You dumped me by text,” I said. Calm. “At 2am. On a sidewalk.”

“Chloe—”

“You said I was too loud. Too emotional. Too much.”

“That’s not—”

“It is.”

I stepped closer. Not to him. Just closer to myself.

“You said those things because it was easier than saying ‘I don’t want to try anymore.’”

His mouth opened. Closed.

“I didn’t mean—”

“But you did mean it enough to send it.”

The coffee on the table was already getting cold.

“I’m not angry,” I said. And I meant it. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m not the girl who waited for you anymore,” I said. “I’m not the girl who answered at 2am. I’m not the girl who made herself smaller so you’d stay.”

Tears were in his eyes now. Real ones.

“Chloe, please—”

“Don’t come here again, Ethan.”

I walked to the door. Opened it.

He didn’t move at first.

Then he did. Slow.

“Can I call you?”

“No.”

“Text?”

“No.”

He walked past me. Stopped on the porch.

“You’re different.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

I closed the door.

Clicked the lock.

And I didn’t cry.

---

*8:52 PM: ACROSS THE STREET*

Lucas sat in his car. Engine off.

He’d seen the text. _You good?_

No reply.

So he came.

Not to interfere. Just to be there.

He saw Ethan’s car pull up.

Saw Ethan knock.

Saw the door open.

His jaw tightened.

For five minutes he watched.

Ethan talking with his hands.

Chloe standing still. Arms crossed.

Then: her pointing to the door.

Then: the door closing.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He picked up his phone.

_You good?_

Sent.

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He just drove home.

---

*9:15 PM*

Tasha came out of the shower in a towel.

“Did I miss it?”

“He came.”

“And?”

“And I closed the door.”

She stared at me.

Then she screamed.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

She hugged me so hard my ribs hurt.

My hands were still shaking.

But not from sadness.

From power.

I picked up my phone.

No new texts from him.

But one notification.

Instagram.

Tasha had tagged me in a photo from the kickback.

Me.

New hair.

Cream dress.

Laughing. Head thrown back.

Not looking for anyone.

Caption: _glow up szn ✨_

My thumb hovered over it.

Tasha leaned over my shoulder.

“Post it,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“Contract, clause 5: We become unrecognizable.”

I hit post.

The photo went live.

And for the first time in two weeks,

I didn’t check to see if he’d seen it.