A Seven-Year Obedience Test Chapter 02
Ethan’s face went pale, and panic flickered in his eyes.
“What did you say? You’re breaking up with me over this?”
Seeing my composure, he quickly suppressed whatever fear he felt, leaving only the sting of wounded pride. He pulled out his phone, opened a memo, and shoved it in my face.
“Fine. You want to break up? Here’s the deal. Every cent you’ve spent over the past seven years—you’re paying it all back. Down to the last penny.”
I looked down at the endless list.
【5/21/2018, coffee, $6—preliminary assessment: no greed detected.】
【9/8/2019, rent overpayment, $1,800—observing whether dependency forms.】
【2/14/2021, roses, $9.90—no complaint, performance acceptable.】
【8/3/2022, Valentine’s gift, $3,000—clear tendency to get.】
From the first $9.90 bouquet to the last pack of condoms that cost less than twenty bucks—every single entry timestamped to the minute.
Seven years of mundane everyday life, itemized like a chain of evidence proving I’d been a joke from start to finish.
My chest tightened, like a fist slowly squeezing, then slowly releasing.
Ethan scrolled through the screen with his finger, speaking as if he were doing me a favor.
“You lived in my apartment rent-free for seven years. Pay me market rate. Utilities, split it. Gifts… just cash them out.”
He was the one who’d begged me to move in back then. Complained my place was too far—crossing half the city just to see me was a hassle. Said I was too busy to spend time with him, and worried I’d feel guilty about the arrangement, so he suggested I use the money I saved on rent to buy him presents.
I gave in. And now, it was all being tallied against me.
Vivian stood beside him, watching me with undisguised contempt.
“She spent all that money and you’re still saying she’s not a gold digger?”
I ignored her, staring straight at Ethan. The tears finally came.
“These seven years… you really worked hard. Playing the devoted boyfriend while squeezing in time to keep the books.”
A tear landed on his hand. Ethan pressed his lips together and quickly pulled the phone back.
“I was joking. You’re the one who threatened to break up. Just apologize and we’ll forget the whole thing—”
I cut him off, my voice hoarse.
“Add it all up. I’ll pay every cent.”
His Adam’s apple moved. He hadn’t expected me to be serious. After a long pause, he tossed the phone aside, his tone even harsher.
“Do you think I care about the money? They were right all along. You never loved me—you only loved my money. Caught now, so you’re running?”
Vivian jumped in. “This is hilarious. Playing all high and mighty now. Don’t bother—without Ethan backing you up, do you honestly think you can keep living like this?”
Anger surged to my head. I barely held back the impulse to slap them both.
These rich kids playing at life treated other people’s sincerity like a paid experience. In their eyes, I was nothing but Ethan’s momentary distraction. Once the novelty wore off, they’d tally the damages and settle the bill.
I’d poured my heart into this relationship for seven years. And Ethan never even saw who I really was. How laughable.
I gripped the suitcase handle so hard my knuckles ached. I forced the anger down, didn’t look at either of them again, and dragged the suitcase straight into the bedroom.
I pulled open a drawer full of odds and ends. Movie stubs. Amusement park tickets. Little notes he’d scribbled on sticky pads. Faded Polaroids with bent corners.
I stared at one of the photos for a few seconds. Then I flipped it over and laid it face-down at the bottom of the drawer.
Not taking it.
The feelings were fake. What use were the mementos?
Vivian followed me in and stood at the door, arms crossed, watching me pack.
She kept making little sounds of disapproval. “Ethan bought that shirt, didn’t he?” “Those mugs are a couple’s set—hardly appropriate for you to take.” “That bracelet was his birthday gift to you. Remember to leave it…”
I turned and looked at her, my voice flat.
“You want them? They’re all yours. I know you’ve been after more than just mugs.”
Vivian’s face flushed, then went pale, her voice turning shrill. “Who’d want your junk! I’m just making sure you don’t go around swindling people under the name of Ethan’s ex. Let me make this clear—anything connected to him stays here.”
She paused, then snorted. “Claire, you’re not trying to get a rise out of Ethan with this little act, are you?”
Ethan’s pupils contracted, his gaze heavy on me.
“Claire, think carefully. Once you walk out that door, we’re really done.”
His voice carried a hint of probing, laced with the weakness of being sick. That look made me pause for a second.
It was like being back in the old days—him with a fever, all drowsy and clingy, acting cute with me.
But the clearer the memories, the sharper the present cut.
I zipped up my suitcase and straightened up, looking at him.
“You’re an investment banking heir. How could I ever be worthy of you? Don’t waste your time on someone ordinary like me.”
The composure on his face cracked. His jaw tightened.
“If we’re breaking up, I should be the one to say it! I’m Ethan! How dare you act so superior?”
He was used to me holding him up, soothing him, going along with him—as if I were born to look up at him and gratefully accept whatever scraps of affection he tossed my way.
But I was tired. Done playing along.
I didn’t answer. I dragged my suitcase toward the door.
His muffled roar came from behind me. “Claire, this is really making me angry!”
I didn’t stop.
“Don’t you regret this!”
Regret?
The only thing I regretted was taking seven years to see this “love” for what it really was—a transaction with a price tag on every moment. Being treated like a thief every single day. I didn’t want another minute of it.