Part 1The Ex Who Went Viral

I was scrolling through a gossip thread after work when I saw it:

[Do Childhood Sweethearts Really Stand a Chance Against a Sudden, Dazzling Arrival?]

One highly-rated comment stood out:

[Of course not. I stole my husband right out from under his so-called 'childhood sweetheart.']

[Five years ago, my husband was a charming, polite college student, and his girlfriend was totally unsuited for him.]

[So I played the cool girl. I worked my way into his life as his 'guy friend,' and then, under the guise of being his best buddy, I started chipping away at their relationship.]

[It didn't take long for them to start fighting. He invited me out for a drink to vent, and I showed up in a killer little black dress and the highest heels I owned. His eyes were glued to me.]

[The night we got together, his little girlfriend was probably waiting for him to come home to take her to her prenatal appointment.]

The accompanying picture showed a father holding an infant, meticulously giving a bottle.

Though his face was obscured, I recognized the man immediately. The jagged, distinct scar tracing his forearm gave him away.

It was Dean, my childhood sweetheart, Xu Xiangyi.

I was stunned to see a post about him, completely unmoored in time and context, after so many years.

I skimmed the comments—a nasty mix of praise and condemnation—then quit the thread and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat.

I started the car, but before I could pull away, Harper leaned over from the passenger side.

“Sierra, babe, someone named Dean called you.”

“I answered it for you.”

* * *

“Wait—”

Just as I grabbed the phone back, a familiar voice drifted from the speaker.

“Happy Anniversary, honey.”

My first instinct was to slam the End Call button, but Harper snatched the phone away again.

She wore a "spill the tea, you dog" expression, mouthing silently:

“Fess up. Since when?”

I pressed the brake, pulling over. I was about to explain that the man on the other end already had a wife when a different, female voice cut in.

“Oh my God, it’s the necklace I’ve been wanting! Thank you, honey!”

“Also, babe, the results from the check-up came back today. The doctor says the baby is perfectly healthy.”

Dean murmured, “That’s great. And the toddler? What’s my big boy doing? Why are you playing with Daddy’s phone—”

The closeness of his voice stopped dead.

For a moment, the only sound on either side of the line was the faint static of the connection.

Finally, a faint whisper emerged.

“Sierra?”

That one word was a cold shock. I snatched the phone back, didn't give him a chance to speak again, and instantly hit Hang Up.

After all, I had once told him I’d rather die than ever speak to him again.

The car eased back into traffic, but the atmosphere inside remained thick with unspoken tension.

Harper broke the silence first, clearing her throat with a forced laugh. "Oops, must have been a pocket dial."

Then, attempting to lighten the mood, she rambled, “Speaking of, I saw some trashy viral post today. This woman was saying she stole her husband from his little childhood sweetheart.”

“People will post any absurd, dramatic fantasy for clicks these days…”

“That post wasn’t fiction. That was life.”

I gripped the steering wheel, managing a calm, chilling smile as I glanced at Harper’s astonished face.

“Because I was the stupid little childhood sweetheart whose boyfriend was stolen.”