My Bully Became His Mistress

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My classmate, Sarah, saw me and happily pointed at my engagement ring.

You and Ethan are getting married, congrats!

Then, she gave a sly smile:

You know what? Olivia, who bullied you in high school, is now someone's side piece.

Out of curiosity, I checked Olivia's social media and found a post.

Hate lasts longer than love. Take down your arch-nemesis.

He hated that I didn't even glance at him in high school. He hated that I bullied his girlfriend, sending a report to the school board that got me expelled, making me miss out on my diploma.

Later, he got into an Ivy League school and landed a job at a prestigious firm right after graduation. Me? I was jobless, ended up working as a hostess.

But on the night of his engagement, one call from me brought him out, and we slept together 7 times that night.

The comments under the post were all cursing her, but she brazenly posted a few joint photos.

My hands trembled as I clicked to open them.

The man kneeling beside her, putting on her high heels, showed half of his face.

It was my fianc, Ethan.

I felt almost dizzy, my fingertips zooming in and out.

No matter how many times I looked, stubbornly refusing to believe it.

That half-face, that matching couple's ring on his right middle finger, it was exactly as I remembered.

How could it be him?

Just last week, before his business trip, Ethan had gently hugged me, his voice tender:

"Chloe, the new apartment is almost ready. On moving day, we'll head to city hall to get our marriage license."

Moving day was the day after tomorrow.

The comments on that post kept scrolling, some questioning:

"A bully actually found love? Who'd believe that?"

"She's probably just jealous of someone else's true love and deliberately Photoshopped it to be disgusting."

My heart skipped a beat.

My suffocating chest finally caught a breath.

Olivia hated my guts. Knowing our wedding was close, it was possible she was just spreading rumors.

After all, Ethan had more than once held my scarred hand, his eyes red with tears:

"Every time you have a nightmare, I wish I could kill her."

Olivia replied to that one comment directly:

"How ridiculous. Who's true love isn't set in stone. Here, take a closer look."

She uploaded another series of pictures.

The screen was filled with screenshots of bank transfers and receipts, each specifically noted "voluntary gift."

Monthly short trips, with hundreds of flight tickets alone.

"He's madly in love with me. At least three boxes of condoms every month."

"The most thrilling time was when he pretended to work overtime."

"That bitch called to check up on him. I deliberately screamed a little louder, and he punished me all night. My back was killing me."

"Office desks aren't exactly comfortable, though. I heard his couch was custom-made for her overseas."

"So tonight, the hostess of the new house will be me, I guess?"

In the newly loaded selfie, she smiled, tilting her head, looking innocent.

That door in the background was the entrance to the apartment complex Ethan and I had seen countless times but hadn't moved into yet.

The car reached its stop.

I followed the crowd out of the car. The cold wind poured into my collar, chilling my face pale.

While waiting for a cab, I stared down, dialing Ethan's number again and again.

Until I got into the car, there was no answer.

On the eighth call, Ethan picked up.

The distance to the new apartment was less than two miles.

"Chloe, wha"

"Where are you?" I interrupted him, trying with all my might to steady my voice.

Ethan's voice was soft and tender:

"I'm at work, overtime. Miss me already?"

"Video call."

He paused, a hint of helplessness in his voice:

"Baby, I have a meeting. Can I call you back later?"

"I've got a lot of projects this month. I want to earn more so you won't have to work so hard after we get married."

One mile.

I was silent for a moment, then asked in a hoarse voice:

"Ethan, have you ever lied to me?"

He answered without hesitation: "Of course not, Chloe. Why the sudden question?"

A faint scoff, almost imperceptible, reached my ears.

It was Olivia.

My heart slowly grew cold.

Three hundred feet left.

"Is someone next to you? Who is it?"

Ethan coughed, trying to cover it up: "Just a colleague, Chloe. How about we talk later, when you're back from your business trip?"

He suddenly stopped. "Chloe, are you crying?"

The car slowly pulled over.

With just one glance, I saw them in the distance.

Under the dim streetlights, Olivia, in a short skirt, was leaning softly against Ethan, half her body draped on him.

She was listening to the phone, her face mocking.

Everything she said was true.

Ethan.

You could cheat with anyone, but how could it be her?

Tears splattered on the ground, but I stubbornly looked up, my voice hoarse:

"Turn around."

"What?"

Ethan turned around, startled.

The moment our eyes met, his face abruptly went pale.

"Chloe..."

He swayed, walked closer, his fingertips trembling as he wiped away my tears.

"Don't cry," his voice softened. "It breaks my heart to see you cry."

I looked up blankly.

Ethan looked at me with the exact same gaze as seven years ago.

In our junior year of high school, Ethan and I became classmates.

He was quiet, I was introverted; our only interaction was a "thank you" when papers were handed out.

The night before the school sports day, we played truth or dare in the dorm.

The sexy, outgoing Olivia blushed and said, "I have a crush on someone."

"Tomorrow at the sports day, once he takes my water, you'll know who it is."

I happened to be absent that day.

The next day, when I returned to school, I was called to help with logistics.

Ethan, after finishing his 1000-meter race, glanced at the electrolyte drink Olivia offered him.

Then he looked at the bottled water I had just set down.

He walked past Olivia, picked up my water, and asked casually:

"Why weren't you here yesterday? Sick?"

I forgot what I said.

I only remembered that from that day on.

Olivia spread rumors that I was a prude trying to seduce the baseball team captain, and then led the charge to ostracize me.

During our late-night dorm chats, the moment I spoke, the air would fill with deliberate silence.

I was chosen as the biology class rep. Olivia grinned and came closer.

Her hand provocatively reached for my chest.

"Wow, top in biology, and such big breasts! From now on, we'll just call you Beaker'."

From then on, the name "Beaker" became my nightmare.

Summer school uniforms were quite sheer.

During gym class, she deliberately splashed water all over me, then snickered:

"Beaker, nice bra today, it's pink!"

"So many guys in class, who are you trying to hook up with? Tell us, I'll help you out!"

The first reaction of someone being bullied is always to self-reflect.

Why me?

Did I do something wrong?

Seventeen-year-old Chloe didn't understand.

I was terrified, trying to negotiate, even to appease her.

Explaining repeatedly, bringing her milk, helping her with difficult math problems.

Olivia finally accepted, her attitude suddenly softening.

During class, she slipped me a note: "I need to talk to you after school."

Ethan, sharp-eyed, spotted it and his expression tightened.

"Don't go."

I didn't hear clearly. "What?"

He turned his head away, no longer speaking.

Years later, in countless midnight dreams, I would always remember that day.

Olivia brought her 'sisters' from outside school to corner me.

No matter how hysterically I fought back, they still stripped off my clothes, and with a utility knife, they cut my arms, one slash after another, until blood flowed freely.

Olivia's eyes were full of disgust: "Chloe, what are you pretending to be, a good girl? You're such a bitch."

Later, Ethan arrived with the police.

His jacket was draped over me as he kept calling out, "Chloe, Chloe, Chloe..."

Suddenly, a warm drop fell on my face.

My blurry vision slowly focused, and I saw clearly.

It was Ethan's tears.

He said, "I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

"If only I had arrived sooner..."

How could I blame him? It was his report to the school board that got Olivia expelled and dropped out.

It was he who took time off to accompany me to therapy, helping me catch up on my missed studies little by little.

We applied to the same college.

The day our college acceptance letters came out, as Ethan and I walked side-by-side, he quietly took my hand.

Four years of college, three years of work.

From campus to wedding dress, our journey was almost entirely smooth.

When we bought our apartment with our combined savings, Ethan pointed to every corner, planning what to put where.

After he finished, he smiled, his eyes curving: "Chloe, what do you think?"

People often feel a sense of unreality when they're closest to happiness.

Could fate really be this kind? Could the future really be so smooth?

I didn't know.

But at that moment, I believed I was happy.

How did it turn out like this?

"Chloe, just listen to me calmly. It's not what you think between me and her."

Ethan's mouth opened and closed.

But I couldn't hear anything anymore.

Ethan poured a glass of warm water and placed it in my hand.

He knelt down, face-to-face, his forehead against mine, his eyes pleading:

"Chloe, please say something, don't scare me."

"We're home now. Look, it's our new apartment."

Home?

I vaguely came back to my senses. Olivia was already gone.

Ethan's glare had made her leave.

Before she left, Olivia shrugged indifferently, then mouthed two words with a playful smirk: "Beaker."

So disgusting.

So incredibly disgusting.

I trembled all over and pushed him away forcefully. "Get lost."

Ethan's lower back hit the table leg. He grunted and sighed:

"Chloe, you can vent your anger however you want, but at least give me a chance to explain, right?"

"Olivia just heard we were getting married and wanted to offer her congratulations."

Ethan's tone was helpless:

"I was afraid you'd misunderstand, and since you were on a business trip, I didn't tell you."

"I didn't know you'd come back early. This is my fault."

"That's it?" I asked him.

Ethan nodded. "Chloe, when have I ever lied to you?"

My smile was uglier than any cry.

Why?

It was the same familiar face.

The same familiar tone.

Seven years. When did he learn to lie so flawlessly, without even a flicker in his eyes?

Ethan was startled, thinking I was only upset because I'd seen Olivia.

He patiently wiped away my tears.

"We were just kids back in high school. Everyone makes mistakes."

"Besides, she already paid the price for it."

"No diploma, divorced parents. She entered the world early as a young woman, even getting enough to eat was a struggle. She was truly pitiful."

"Yes, she wronged you. But it's been seven years. Why can't you just get over it?"

For seven years, every damp, rainy season, I would have nightmares.

In my dreams, countless smooth hands, like vines, would cling stickily to me.

Olivia's cruel smiling face was always there.

A cold blade would slide down my cheek, leaving a bloody trail.

"Chloe, I was the first one to see your whole body. Doesn't that make me half your man?"

"Sweetie, don't you dare forget me."

I'd wake up screaming, my face already drenched with tears, soaking the pillowcase.

Ethan would quietly comfort me again and again:

"Don't be scared. It's okay if you can't forget. I'll always be with you."

And now.

He's asking me, on behalf of my bully, why I can't just get over it?

My chest felt like it was being churned by a dull knife.

One cut after another, deep and heavy.

I lifted my pale face and asked the last question:

"Why?"

Ethan's tone softened slightly, his gaze lowered:

"Chloe, I don't want to see you have nightmares."

"Let go of the past. We have a better future ahead. Let's get our marriage license tomorrow, okay?"

I was tired of his evasiveness. I asked hoarsely:

"Ethan, tell me, did you sleep with her..."

The urgent ringing of his phone suddenly broke the silence.

He quickly answered. In less than three seconds, his expression became anxious.

"I'm going out for a bit. Don't wait up for me."

At the same time, an unfamiliar text message popped up on my phone.

"Chloe, do you believe me? In five minutes, he'll be in my bed."

The familiar malice confronted me directly.

I instinctively grabbed Ethan's sleeve:

"Don't go..."

He paused, turned around, and slowly pulled his hand away.

"Chloe, I have to go."

The door closed.

I stood frozen, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably.

I couldn't stop him.

Seven years ago, Chloe insisted on going to that meeting out of foolishness.

Ethan wasn't stupid.

He was enjoying every minute of it.

The screen lit up again.

"Chloe, you still don't know, do you?"

"He slept with me on the night you got engaged."

Naked provocation.

Should I laugh? I was so broken that the words just registered as numbly.

The next message appeared, like a death knell.

The moment I saw it clearly, a sharp, sudden pain pierced my chest, almost stealing my breath.

"Chloe, did you really think he hated me?"

"The day I was expelled from school, he slipped me a phone number and an address."

"Chloe, Chloe, the truth is, you lost a long time ago."

My hands trembled uncontrollably.

It wasn't a coincidence at all.

Not a drunken mistake, not a chance encounter at a bar.

It was one call from Olivia, and he went.

Ethan.

When you kept comforting me not to be scared, when your eyes reddened touching the scars on my hand.

When you cried with excitement celebrating buying this new apartment.

Were you crying for the woman you claimed to love, or were you worried about how the bully from years ago was doing?

A wave of nausea washed over me.

I rushed to the bathroom and threw up until I saw stars.

Along with my shattered heart, it all went down the drain.

Forget it.

This was all too disgusting.

Wiping my face, I opened my laptop and, underneath that expatriate job offer I'd never even considered, I checked 'agree'.

After shutting down, I booked a ticket for the next day.

I had rushed back overnight, not even opening my suitcase.

It was fine.

No need to pack anymore.

That post was updated again.

Amidst a flurry of curses, Olivia posted a photo of them holding hands.

"The line between hate and love is so fine, after all."

"Even as he hated me for bullying, wasn't it a kind of attention?"

"See? Seven years, and I still won, didn't I?"

I didn't sleep all night.

I saved and recorded every one of her words, every undeniable piece of evidence of their affair.

Early the next morning, I dragged my suitcase out the door.

I ran right into Ethan, who was rushing back.

Seeing the suitcase, his gaze stopped, and his expression became anxious.

"Chloe, I was just called in last night for an urgent project. You don't need to make a scene over this, do you?"

Ethan rubbed his tired brows, his tone softening slightly:

"I didn't sleep all night, just quickly rinsed off, sorry."

He curved his lips and took my suitcase:

"We agreed to get our marriage license today, Chloe. All our relatives and friends are waiting for us to post it on Ins for likes."

"I've already booked the makeup artist; she'll be here soon, we..."

I sidestepped, avoiding his hand.

Ethan's outstretched hand froze in mid-air. A strange feeling flashed through his heart.

"What's wrong?"

I quietly looked at him, suddenly curious:

"Ethan, how much sincerity was there in your smooth words?"

"What...?"

"Olivia's perfume from last night hadn't faded yet, and there was a lipstick stain on the back of your collar."

Ethan's face abruptly went pale.

I managed a mocking smile:

"Most importantly, the wedding ring on your right hand? You took it off."