Chapter 1My boyfriend and his childhood sweetheart spoke in French. AGAIN.
I snapped. "Can you two speak English for once so I can join in?"
Chloe smirked. "Sure. Can't have our princess feeling left out."
But two seconds later? FRENCH.
They cracked up at some inside joke.
I wanted in SO bad—laughed too.
Ethan turned to me, ice-cold.
"She just called you clingy. And you're giggling?"
My smile froze.
Turns out they'd been trashing me, flirting—RIGHT IN MY FACE—and I had no idea.
That night, I brought it up. One last time.
Ethan frowned.
"We grew up speaking French. Stop being so fucking sensitive."
Sensitive?
No—I was INVISIBLE.
FUCK THAT.
Can't join their French world? I'm OUT.
...
Ethan was glued to his phone in bed, texting away with this stupid grin on his face.
I glanced at the screen.
Contact name: Chloe.
"Still chatting THIS late?" I asked.
He didn't even look up. "She just got home. Telling me about the traffic."
"Oh."
I rolled over. Faced the wall.
His phone kept buzzing. Over and over.
Each vibration felt like a punch to the chest.
I gripped the blanket and told myself:
Forget it. Just stop thinking.
The next day was Saturday.
I'd already booked us tickets to that movie he'd been dying to see.
But that morning, he got a call.
He hung up and said, "Chloe just moved. Says her place is a mess."
"I'm gonna help her clean up."
I froze.
"Can't she hire a cleaner?"
"Why waste money on that?" Ethan was already changing clothes. Casual as hell.
"Just stay home. I'll be back by noon."
I watched him rush out the door, wanting to say something.
But in the end, no words came out.
Refunded the tickets.
He came back at 3 PM, reeking of BBQ, smiling like he'd just had the time of his life.
"Did you eat? I brought you some beef."
He handed me a takeout box.
It was already cold.
I opened it.
The beef was shriveled. Grease congealed on top. Looked disgusting.
I stared at that box, unable to describe what I was feeling.
Was this pity? Or just an afterthought?
I didn't know which hurt more.
I dumped it in the trash.
Ethan poked his head out of the bathroom.
"Why are you wasting food? If you're not eating it, at least saved it."
"It's cold."
"Microwave exists."
I didn't answer.
A bitter ache spread through my chest.
That night, we were lying in bed.
I gathered my courage and finally spoke.
"Ethan. I need to talk to you."
"Mm?" He was still staring at his phone.
"Can you put it down for a minute?"
He finally looked at me, annoyed.
"Chloe... isn't she coming around a little too much?"
His face changed instantly.
"Here we go again."
"I've told you a million times—we grew up together."
"We're practically FAMILY. Can you stop being so damn insecure?"
"I'm not insecure. I just think—"
"You think what?" Ethan sat up, his voice rising.
"You think there's something going on between us?"
"Iris. Can you be understanding for once?"
Right.
It's MY fault for wanting my own boyfriend to notice me.
"Fine. I won't say anything."
I closed my eyes, feeling my heart twist painfully inside my chest.
Ethan yanked the blanket over to his side. Turned his back to me.
A moment later, his phone lit up again.
He grabbed it. Smiled. Started typing.
I opened my eyes and stared at his curved back.
Suddenly, this bed felt huge.
Big enough for someone else to fit between us.
And I realized... I'd already been replaced.
Chapter 2
On Monday, I took a half day off.
Ethan sweet-talked me into cooking him a nice meal.
I fell for it.
Spent forever at the grocery store.
Got his favorite—BBQ ribs and corn.
Spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen.
The soup simmered for two hours. Whole apartment smelled amazing.
I even plated everything nice. Wanted to surprise him.
Then the door opened.
Ethan walked in.
Chloe right behind him.
I froze mid-reach for a plate.
"Oh, you cooked?"
Chloe kicked off her shoes, plopped on the couch like she owned the place.
"What's for lunch? I'm starving."
I looked at Ethan, questioning.
He shrugged.
"She didn't have anywhere to eat, so I told her to come over."
He said it so casually.
Like it was nothing.
Like my two-person lunch could just magically stretch to three.
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
Went back to the kitchen and grabbed another set of dishes.
My hands shook.
Not from anger.
From heartbreak.
During lunch, they switched to French again.
Fast. Laughing. I couldn't follow a word.
I sat across from them, quietly spooning chowder into my mouth.
It tasted like nothing.
Chloe suddenly turned to me in English.
"Hey, girl. These ribs are actually pretty good. You got skills."
I smiled. "Thanks."
Even I could hear how pathetic that sounded.
Ethan said something to Chloe in French.
She burst out laughing. Nearly spit out her soup.
I set down my fork, heart racing.
"What's so funny?"
Ethan waved it off, still laughing.
"Nothing. Just said your apron makes you look like a maid."
Chloe slammed the table, laughing even harder.
I forced a smile.
I spent all morning on this meal and carefully plated everything.
And to them I looked like a maid.
Hilarious.
So hilarious my eyes started burning.
After lunch, I cleaned up. Alone.
Spent thirty minutes washing dishes.
Meanwhile? They were on the couch, sharing a blanket and watching TV.
I stood in the kitchen doorway. Watched them.
Chloe's feet kicked up near Ethan's legs.
He had the remote. She leaned against the armrest.
The picture was too perfect.
So perfect I felt like an outsider.
Like I didn't belong in my own apartment.
My chest felt tight, and I couldn't breathe.
"I'm going out." I grabbed my coat.
Ethan didn't even look up. "Where?"
"Downstairs. Need air."
"Oh."
Just "oh."
I left and sat on a bench in the courtyard for an hour.
November wind cut through my jacket. Froze me to the bone.
But it didn't feel nearly as cold as my heart.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Ethan:
"Where's that yogurt you bought? Chloe wants some."
I stared at those words.
Eyes stinging. Nose burning.
He texted me just because Chloe wanted yogurt.
Not to ask where I was.
Not to check if I was okay.
Not to tell me to come home.
I took a slow breath and replied.
[Second shelf in the fridge.]
Then I turned off the screen and looked up at the gray sky.
Almost cried.
Called my college roommate Selena.
"What's up? It's the weekend." She sounded distracted. Sleeping probably.
"Nothing... just wanted to ask. You and your boyfriend ever... make you feel like you were the extra person?"
My voice cracked. I heard it.
Selena went quiet. "What's going on with you and Ethan?"
"Nothing." I swallowed hard. "Just asking."
"Iris." Her voice got serious.
"If something's wrong, say it. Don't bottle this up."
"But Ethan said I was being insecure."
Long silence.
Then Selena sighed.
"Iris. It's not you being insecure."
"It's him not putting you where the girlfriend should be."
I hung up and sat in the cold wind.
Until my hands and feet went numb.
By the time I got home, Chloe was gone.
Two empty yogurt cups sat on the coffee table.
MY yogurt.
SHE drank it.
I stood there staring at those empty cups.
Something inside me was about to snap.
Chapter 3
The breaking point came on a Wednesday night.
Work ran late, and I didn't get home until after nine.
Starving, stomach cramping—I opened the door.
Living room lights on.
Ethan and Chloe at the dining table, chatting and laughing over takeout.
Two orders.
None for me.
I stood in the doorway.
My chest felt like someone was squeezing my heart.
"Oh, you're back?"
Ethan glanced at me, his tone as casual as if he were greeting a neighbor.
"Did you eat? If not, order yourself something."
Order MYSELF.
Chloe lifted her fork toward me with a grin.
"Hey, Iris. Rough day at work, huh?"
My lips moved. Finally squeezed out three words.
"I already ate."
LIE.
I'd been hungry for six hours.
But I couldn't say "I didn't eat."
Because what would that change? Would he suddenly save me a portion?
No.
He never even thought to.
I walked into the bedroom, shut the door and collapsed on the bed.
My stomach twisted painfully with hunger.
But I didn't want food anymore.
Outside I heard their laughter. Bits of French floated through the walls.
I couldn't understand. Couldn't belong in that conversation.
The tears finally came.
Silent. One by one. Soaking into the pillow.
I didn't even know why I was crying.
Maybe it was just... disappointment piled up.
Too much hurt. Too long ignored.
I grabbed my phone and opened Ethan's Instagram.
Latest post from this afternoon. Starbucks.
Caption: "Chloe treated me. Tastes just like home~"
Location: the street near my office.
He was near my office this afternoon?
But he didn't come see me.
He went for coffee. With Chloe.
I kept scrolling. My heart grew colder with every swipe.
Past month—every other post mentioned Chloe.
"Chloe and I hit up our favorite spot from high school. Owner still remembers us!"
"Chloe said my new haircut looks like a bowl cut lmao"
"Chloe tried teaching me to fix my bike. Made it worse. Dead."
Every post so alive. So happy.
And me?
I scrolled forever. Finally found one about me.
Two months ago. My birthday.
He posted: "Happy birthday."
Didn't even tag me.
No photo of us.
I exited Instagram.
The phone fell onto my chest, screen light reflecting off the tear tracks on my face.
Pathetic.
I wasn't even a side character in his life.
At ten-thirty, the bedroom door opened.
Ethan came in carrying the faint scent of her cheap perfume.
That smell made my nose burn.
"Chloe left." He climbed into bed.
"She invited me to dinner tomorrow with some friends. Thinking about going."
"Go." My voice came out hoarse.
"You wanna come?"
It was the first time he'd ever invited me.
But I knew.
If I went, I'd sit there like a deaf person—watching them chat in French, laughing.
Forget it.
"I'll pass. I've got to work late again."
"Oh. Okay."
He didn't ask me to skip work.
He didn't say he'd stay with me instead.
He didn't even hesitate.
Just "okay."
Like a knife slicing through my last bit of hope.
I turned onto my side, facing away from him.
Swallowed every emotion down.
In the darkness, I stared at the ceiling forever.
Remembering when we'd first started dating.
He'd looked me in the eyes and said:
"Iris, I like you because you make me feel safe."
Safe.
Now that word felt like a joke.
I was the one who gave him security.
But I wasn't the one standing beside him.
I wasn't afraid of competition with someone better.
I was afraid I was never even in the race.
I simply didn't belong in his world.
Never.
So why was I still here?
Waiting to be completely forgotten?
