My Ex’s Uncle My Boss and My Lover

Knock, knock. My door rattled like someone was trying to break it down. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Not at 11:30 p.m. I jolted up, the sound sharp and urgent against the quiet of my apartment. Who the hell was at my door by 11:30 p.m.? I wasn’t expecting anyone. I pulled my robe tighter around me and tiptoed to the door, heart racing a little. I didn’t forget to take a bat with me in case it was someone that would need it. When I peeked through the peephole, I cursed under my breath. Jake. He was swaying on his feet, eyes half-closed, clearly drunk. He is my boyfriend of three years. By this time, what is he here for? The man who said he was just going out for “a friend’s birthday dinner,” now looked like he’d bathed in whiskey. I opened the door slowly. “Jake? What the hell? What are you doing in my home by this time?” He blinked, grinned lazily, and stumbled forward, falling right into my arms. “I missed you,” he slurred. You missed me? Didn’t I see you this morning? Even if you are drunk, don’t you know the way to your house? I kept pouring questions on top of questions, meanwhile the person I was talking angrily to had already rested his head on my chest. “Is he asleep?” I said, trying to check him out. “God, Jake, you reek.” I helped him inside, barely able to support his weight. “Why didn’t your friends drop you off? Where is your car? I hope you didn’t drive this way. What of your friends… Why would they let you leave alone in this state?” I said, almost equivalent to me talking to myself because who I was asking questions to was totally drunk—he couldn’t even see himself again, let alone answer me. He flopped onto my bed like dead weight. I stood there angrily watching him. I angrily grabbed my phone and scrolled to Andrew’s number, one of Jake’s close friends. The one celebrating the birthday today. I wanted to call him and ask how Jake managed to get this drunk and they still left him to come home alone. The phone rang. He picked up, but didn’t say anything. “Andrew?” I said. “Hello? Are you there?” Nothing. “Andrew, are you there, or are you also wasted like your friend?” Then I heard it from the other end. Voices. Laughter. Background chatter. And that was how I figured it out—he hadn’t answered me. He must’ve answered by mistake, still chatting with the others. It sounded like they were all drunk. I was about to hang up when I heard someone say, “Andrew, do you think… damn, so do you think Jake might actually win the bet?” My brows pulled together and curiosity set in. Wait… is he gambling now? I muttered, confused, as I set my ears closer to the phone so I could hear them well. “No way,” another voice added. “Three years? We really made that dare three years ago? And just like that, three years is here already?” I froze. My thumb hovered over the end call button. Dare? On who? About who? I said to myself as I tried to make my brain understand what was going on. The voice on the other end went on: “And I’m pretty sure that girl Myra is totally in love. Damnnnn, Jake is a total bad booooy.” Others burst into laughter. My body started shaking. My head started spinning. My brain tried to figure out what was going on. So Jake and his friends made a truth or dare game, and he dated me for three years because he was dared to? My hand began to shake. I started sweating under the cold. I looked at Jake on the bed like I should slap him up from that sleep and tell him to explain what I was hearing. But just as I was about to do that, the voices on the other end continued talking and I calmed down to listen—maybe there was still more coming. Andrew: “Do you guys think Jake isn’t in love with that girl? Because if he is, then he loses.” Another voice: “I don’t think so. He won’t even try it. It’s just a truth or dare game, and in the next month, it will make three years, so it would end the dare game. It’s just ‘date her for 3 years without catching feelings.’ I trust my guy Jake. He won’t lose that.” Another voice: “Everything will end on their three years anniversary.” By now, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I’m just a tool for a truth or dare game for Jake? This is the guy I dated for three years. He showed me love and affection all those three years, and now only for me to know it’s just a game of truth or dare? He wasted three years of my life for a game? He played with my emotions, took me as a worthless tool, and now he was on my bed lying down like nothing ever happened? I couldn’t help it as tears started flowing from my eyes. Three years. For what? A dare? But just when I thought I’d heard it all, a voice on the other end said something that almost shook the life out of me. “Wait, is Sophie still hanging out with him?” Andrew replied, “Yeah, she knows. She’s cool about it.” My breath caught. Wait. Sophie? My best friend? She knows? She knows what? Is it that she knows I’m being played as a game? Or what do they even mean by ‘is she still hanging out with him?’ Is Sophie dating my boyfriend? “No, that is not possible,” I said, trying to force a smile. A sick feeling curled in my stomach. I kept the phone pressed to my ear, every word sinking deeper like a knife. “Jake really played it well though. I thought he’d last three weeks, not three damn years. I even thought Jake is bad, but Sophie is badder.” “Truth or Dare for the win,” someone laughed, and others joined. I couldn’t breathe. The room spun. My legs nearly gave out, and I dropped to the floor beside my bed, staring at Jake passed out, snoring, like he hadn’t just shattered everything I believed in. Our relationship… was a game? A bet? A dare? And I… I was just an object that could be used anyhow for them. And Sophie, my best friend of five years that I had known even before I met Jake—I even met Jake through her… she knew? She knew about the game? Not only did she know, they said something like she was hanging out with Jake? I ended the call with trembling fingers. Bile rose in my throat, the room stinking of whiskey, sweat, and betrayal. My fingers trembled so hard that my phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. I sat there, numb, listening to the man I thought I loved snore like a child who had done nothing wrong. Three years. Three f*****g years. And I was just… a dare?