Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
My boyfriend was an extreme germaphobe. If my lips so much as brushed against his mug, he would throw it out and buy a brand-new one.
That afternoon, I stopped by his office to drop off an umbrella.
Through the glass door, I saw a woman take a sip straight from his personal mug.
Not only did he not flinch, but he naturally took it back from her and continued drinking.
When he looked up and saw me, his immediate reaction was to explain: "She's on her period and having awful cramps, so I—"
I snatched the mug from his hand and splashed the water directly onto his face.
"Awake now?"
Water dripped down Ethan’s jaw, soaking the front of his pristine white dress shirt. The dark tea dripped onto his tailored slacks, leaving an unsightly stain.
He froze, his eyes shifting from sheer shock to utter disbelief.
The woman, Chloe, shrieked. She bolted out of her chair, grabbed a handful of paper towels from the desk, and began furiously blotting Ethan's chest.
"Mr. Hayes, let me dry you off! You'll catch a cold!"
Ethan didn't move.
He stared straight at me, his brows knitted into a tight knot.
"Scarlett, have you lost your mind?"
My fingers were still wrapped around the empty glass. The mug was still warm, and on its rim sat a faint, baby-pink lipstick print.
It wasn't mine.
Chloe's hands kept rubbing Ethan's chest. The paper towels were completely soaked and disintegrating, but she kept pressing, turning the damp fabric translucent against his skin.
"Mr. Hayes, I think Miss Scarlett misunderstood. I just—"
"That's enough, Chloe."
Ethan brushed her hands away and took a step toward me, looking down with cold authority.
"Scarlett, listen to me. Chloe wasn't feeling well today. I just let her have some warm water to soothe her stomach."
"Out of your personal mug," I said flatly.
"It's just a glass of water." His voice held a trace of impatient irritation. "She was pale as a ghost from the pain. I couldn't just stand by and watch her suffer—"
"What happened to your germaphobia?" I cut him off.
Ethan’s expression stiffened.
His severe germaphobia was an open secret to everyone who knew him. After three years together, nobody understood his strict boundaries better than I did.
Out of the hundreds of employees in this corporate tower, anyone who dared touch his pen holder earned a vicious scowl.
Yet this woman, Chloe, was allowed to drink from his personal cup.
Ethan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began dabbing his face. His movements slowed, and his tone softened just a fraction.
"Scarlett, stop making a scene. She's my new executive assistant. I can't just let an employee collapse in front of me."
"Does keeping her from collapsing require sharing your private mug?"
I slammed the empty glass onto the marble desk with a sharp, echoing clatter.
"Did the company run out of paper cups, or is the water dispenser broken?"
Chloe’s eyes welled with tears. Her lower lip trembled, and she shrank back into her chair, trembling like a wounded bird.
"Miss Scarlett, I'm so sorry. The pain was just so overwhelming that I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't realize it was Mr. Hayes's cup... It's all my fault..."
She lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as if she were about to burst into sobs.
In the hallway outside, several coworkers were already peeking through the glass partition.
Ethan glanced over his shoulder, and the prying eyes instantly vanished.
"Scarlett, go home first. I'll explain everything tonight." He lowered his voice, his fingers gently squeezing my wrist. "Don't cause a scene here. It looks bad for the office."
I yanked my hand back.
"Tonight? What time are you planning on coming home? Ten? Midnight?"
Ethan parted his lips, but nothing came out.
A cold weight dropped into the pit of my stomach.
For the past three months, he had dinners and networking events every single night. He always came back long after I had fallen asleep, and left in the morning before I opened my eyes.
I thought he was overwhelmed with projects. I tried to be understanding.
Only now did I realize that no matter how busy a project was, a man didn't just vanish into thin air for three straight months.
My gaze drifted across Chloe's desk—a pastel pink insulated mug, a fluffy fleece throw blanket, and a notebook plastered with cute cartoon stickers.
When had these items migrated into Ethan’s pristine office?
I bent down, picked up the umbrella from the corner of the desk, and tossed it onto the couch. "I brought the umbrella. Find your own way home tonight."
Ethan stepped forward. "Scarlett—"I didn't look back.
As the elevator doors slid shut, I caught a glimpse through the narrowing gap: Chloe was gently dabbing Ethan's cuffs with a fresh napkin, and he stood half-turned, making no effort to step away.
Leaning against the interior wall as the elevator descended, I let out a bitter, humorless laugh.
Three years.
I had been with Ethan for three years, and whenever I touched a fork during dinner, he would have it sterilized before using it himself.
Turns out, he wasn't a germaphobe at all. He just picked and chose his germs.
It was eleven at night when Ethan finally unlocked the front door.
The living room lights were on. I sat on the couch scrolling through my phone, not even bothering to glance up.
He slipped off his shoes in the entryway, leaned down to sniff his collar, and immediately hurried into the master bathroom.
The shower ran for twenty minutes before he stepped out. With damp hair and a towel slung low around his waist, he came to stand before me.
"Scarlett, let's talk about what happened earlier."
"Chloe was referred to me by Mr. Vance. I couldn't just turn down an executive's favor. Today was her first day, and she wasn't feeling well, so I showed some basic courtesy."
"I threw the mug away. It won't happen again."
He held his phone out to me. On the screen was an Amazon receipt showing that he had ordered an exact replacement just moments ago.
Staring at the order confirmation, I felt an overwhelming wave of absurdity.
Three years ago, I accidentally broke one of his favorite mugs. He gave me the cold shoulder for an entire week until I bought ten identical backups to keep in the cabinet.
Now, he casually threw away the cup he used daily, all because another woman had taken a single sip.
"Ethan." I pushed his phone aside. "Do you remember how you reacted when Sarah accidentally bumped into you last month?"
Sarah was his college friend. At an alumni mixer, she had brushed against his forearm by mistake. His face went instantly dark, and he snuck into the restroom three times that night to scrub his arm raw.
Ethan’s expression twitched with discomfort.
"That was completely different."
"How was it different?"
"Chloe had an emergency. She was genuinely in severe pain." Ethan sat down next to me, placing his hand over my knee. "Scarlett, don't overthink this. You're the only one in my heart."
I looked down at his hand. His fingers were long, pale, and manicured to perfection.
I used to admire his refined elegance. Now, looking at him, I only felt disgust.
He pulled his hand back, chilled by the frost in my gaze.
"Scarlett," his voice dropped into an irritated baritone. "What more do you want from me?"
"Nothing."
I stood up, picked up my keys from the coffee table, and turned to face him. "You sleep in the guest room tonight. I'm locking the master bedroom."
Ethan looked up sharply. "You're kicking me out of our bed?"
"The smell of your antiseptic wash gives me a headache."
I walked straight into the bedroom, closing the door behind me and turning the deadbolt with a sharp click.
Silence hung outside the door for a few seconds. Then came the soft sound of his footsteps heading down the hall toward the guest room.
I leaned my back against the hard wood and closed my eyes.
In the past, whenever he sensed I was unhappy, he would linger outside the door for half an hour, cajoling and begging me to let him in.
Tonight, he just walked away.
He didn't even bother waiting for two minutes.
The next morning, I woke up early and began packing my suitcase.
Ethan stood in the doorway of the bedroom, his brow heavily furrowed. He was already wearing a crisply pressed dress shirt, buttoned up to the very top collar.
"Where are you going?"
"Business trip." I didn't look at him, methodically taking my clothes out of the closet.
"You never mentioned a trip."
"It was confirmed yesterday. I didn't get around to briefing you." I folded a blazer and packed it into the suitcase.
Ethan walked over and pressed his palm flat against my luggage lid. "Scarlett, are you still throwing a tantrum? I told you, I tossed the cup! I've already arranged to transfer the new girl to the logistics department. What more do you want?"Transferred to logistics?
I almost laughed out loud.
If he truly wanted to reassure his girlfriend, he would have fired the person who crossed his line, not tucked her away in another department on the company payroll.
"Really? Let me see the transfer order on your phone then."
Ethan’s expression shifted, his fingers curling slightly. "HR is still processing the paperwork. I'm getting her far away from my office. Stop being so aggressive."
"Fine."
I zipped the suitcase shut, the zipper making a harsh, tearing sound in the quiet room.
"The lease on this penthouse is under your name. I'm moving out. Enjoy having the place to yourself. And don't forget to change the sheets—I find them filthy."
Ethan froze. He clearly hadn't anticipated me being this decisive. In the past, no matter how heated our arguments became, I was always the one who surrendered.
He grabbed my wrist tightly. "What are you doing? Scarlett, are you breaking up with me? Over a complete stranger?"
"A stranger?"
I repeated the word, savoring the bitter irony.
"Ethan, for three whole years, I never met your parents, never set foot in your private study, and walked on eggshells just so my breathing wouldn't disturb your peace. I turned myself into a ghost just to cater to your precious germaphobia."
I yanked my arm back violently, the force leaving a sharp sting on my skin.
"And now you tell me the woman who drinks from your personal mug is just a 'stranger'?"
Ethan stumbled back from the force of my shove. His face darkened into a furious sneer—a look of wounded pride I had never seen on him before.
"Scarlett, stop being so unreasonable! Chloe is Mr. Vance’s personal referral. If I don't treat her with respect, our multimillion-dollar contract goes up in smoke."
"Can't you grow up and stop obsessing over petty, insignificant nonsense?"
"Insignificant?"
I laughed until tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
"For a contract, you don't even mind an indirect kiss from her cup? Tell me, if Mr. Vance asks you to sleep with her, are you going to put in some overtime for the sake of the project, too?"
His hand shot up as if to slap me, but when his eyes locked with mine, he lowered it.
"Watch your mouth! You're completely out of your mind! Totally irrational!"
I looked at him.
The man I had loved for three years was looking at me with pure disgust, as if I were a bag of garbage that needed to be hauled to the curb immediately.
No guilt. No remorse.
Just raw, defensive rage at having his dirty secret dragged into the light.
I picked up my suitcase, didn't spare him another glance, and headed for the front door.
"If you walk out that door, don't you dare come back!"
Ethan's enraged roar echoed behind me. "Step foot out of this apartment, and you can forget about me ever begging you to return!"
I checked into a boutique hotel nearby.
The moment I stepped into the room, my phone began vibrating incessantly in my tote bag.
It was Ethan.
I stared at the name flashing across the screen and hit decline.
Seconds later, a barrage of texts lit up my screen:
*Scarlett, what are you trying to prove? It's pouring rain outside and you go stay in some hotel?*
*Get back here right now. Don't make me come drag you back like an embarrassment.*
*Do you have any idea what time it is? I have an executive board meeting first thing tomorrow morning.*
Not a single word of concern. Only orders and accusations.
I tossed the phone onto the king-size bed and took a steaming hot shower.
As the hot water rinsed over my skin, I looked at my pale reflection in the steamy vanity mirror and curled my lips into a cold smirk.
*Scarlett, you were such an idiot.*
Stepping out in a bathrobe, I typed a short message and sent it to Ethan:
*Let's break up. You disgust me.*
Then, I powered off the phone.
That night, I slept better than I had in years.
The following morning, I was jarred awake by aggressive pounding on the door.
Looking through the peephole, I saw Ethan’s face, dark as a storm cloud.
He was wearing the exact same clothes from yesterday, now crumpled and rumpled. Dark circles hung heavily beneath his bloodshot eyes. He clearly hadn't slept a wink.
I didn't open the door.
Through the thick wood panel, his voice was tight with suppressed fury. "Scarlett, open the damn door."
Chapters (3)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Watch & Promotions
- Search this code in the NovelMaster app:
503901Open NovelMaster → Search code → Find the title