Confession Night Turned Into Goodbye

"Miranda Hewlett, we're all here to celebrate because you got into your dream university. What's with the attitude?"

Jaxson Ludlam's voice sounded especially grating over the music.

I ignored him and zipped up my bag. I turned around to push open the glass door and walked out. I stood on the steps outside the bar, not going very far.

We'd spent 18 years as childhood sweethearts and three years dating each other.

Deep down, I still held onto one pitiful shred of hope. I hoped he would come after me, even if it was only to grab my hand and say he was sorry.

Ten minutes later, the glass door behind me finally opened. The sound of familiar footsteps slowly approached.

"Mira!" Jaxson's voice drifted through the night breeze.

My heart, which had gradually turned cold with disappointment, still softened a little involuntarily despite myself.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around, ready to hear his apology.

But what I saw wasn't his anxious face.

He had a pink-and-white jacket draped over his arm. It belonged to Ingrid Rice.

He walked over to me briskly and held out a plastic key card. "Take it."

I froze and looked down. It was a room key card for the hotel next door.

"What do you mean by this?" I heard my own voice trembling in the night wind.

Jaxson frowned, looking troubled. "Ingrid had too much to drink. She threw up all over herself in the restroom. Her family is really strict. If she goes home drunk like this, she'll definitely get into trouble."

He paused, took my hand, and lowered his voice. "I'm a guy. I can't help her change her clothes. And if I take her to a hotel and someone sees us, what will people think about her? You're my girlfriend. Can you help me out this once? Just for one night."

As I stared at the familiar face in front of me, my stomach churned.

So, the greatest value I had as his actual girlfriend was being the perfect cover for his female best friend. To protect another woman's reputation, he didn't hesitate to use me as a convenient tool.

Looking into his anxious eyes, I suddenly felt that the 18 years we'd shared were nothing but a pathetic joke.

In a tired voice, I said, "Jaxson, I'm your girlfriend, not your cover-up for every damsel you want to protect."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Jaxson questioned, his expression darkening.

He stepped forward, trying to force the room key into my hand. "I'm just asking you for a favor. Is this really such a big deal? Ingrid has always been timid. She got quite a scare today. You're usually so understanding. Why are you being so petty all of a sudden?"

Instead of taking the key card, I raised my hand and slapped his arm away. "Keep your room key and go protect her precious innocence. We're done."

With that, I turned around and walked toward a taxi that had just pulled over at the curb. I opened the door and got into the back seat.

"Please drive."

As the taxi pulled away, I looked into the rearview mirror and saw Jaxson still standing where he was. He was still clutching the room key, his face livid as he stared at the taillights disappearing into the distance.

He didn't come after me because he still had to go back and take care of the timid, fragile Ingrid.

My phone screen lit up as a WhatsApp message from Jaxson popped up. "Throw your little tantrum if you want. I already transferred you the money for the hotel tonight. Calm down."

I looked at the cold, emotionless text and replied, "No need. Save it and buy her some hangover medicine."

I hit "Send" and blocked him.