Trapped in My Ex's Love

“Is that it? That’s the reason you’re breaking up with me? Just because you’re tired of me? What kind of joke is that, huh!”

“Yes, I’m tired of you. Besides, from the beginning, didn’t you know you were only my outlet? Come on, don’t be hypocritical. We’re still young, and the love we feel is nothing more than puppy love. We don’t even know if we would last. Our love is just recklessness and fleeting emotion. There is no sincere love between us.”

‘Every word he said felt like a blade slicing my heart. I loved you wholeheartedly, but you saw it only as childish impulse and momentary emotion. Bintang, whatever happens to me now, I will blame you for it in the future. If we meet again someday, you’ll have to pay for this. Pray we never cross paths again.’

**

Moans echoed through the large room; there were no partitions, the bed, kitchen, and living area sharing the same open space though separated by distance. Only the bathroom had a divider and a door.

“El, you’re amazing.” The French woman’s voice sounded deep and sultry.

“I’m always amazing, Baby,” the man replied as he thrust into the woman beneath him. His body was bare, and on his right shoulder was a tattoo of a single star.

He kept moving without pause. He always sought physical pleasure whenever painful memories from the past resurfaced.

Switching partners was nothing new to him whenever boredom struck. Yes, boredom—the very word that had driven Langit Eldar Abimand into madness until he became a notorious playboy. With his good looks and wealth, he dated more than one woman at a time. No one knew how many women had shared his bed whenever he desired. And all of them were willing, captivated by Eldar, the Indonesian man.

The two of them moved in rhythm, their moans filling the room. Time didn’t matter as long as their burning desire could be extinguished.

**

Sunlight began to seep into the room. El was still fast asleep, exhausted from the night he spent with his date, Stevani. Even as the sunlight grew brighter, the pair lost in their dreams remained asleep.

Stevani clung to El’s bare chest as she slept in bright red lingerie. She used his arm as a pillow, her other arm wrapped around him.

Meanwhile, a woman walked gracefully down the corridor of El’s apartment building. One hand held a branded bag, the other swung lightly with her confident steps. She smiled once she stood before his apartment door and pressed the combination to unlock it.

The woman with shoulder-length hair turned the handle after hearing the confirmation sound. She stepped inside to look for El but froze at the sight before her. Bras, panties, women’s clothing, and even bottles of alcohol were scattered across the floor and table. She clenched her fists and walked farther inside—only to be struck by a more heartbreaking scene.

“El! Langit!” She shouted in frustration.

**

“I’ll call you later,” Langit said to the woman who had just spent the night with him.

“Okay, El. I’ll wait,” the French woman replied, even blowing him a kiss despite the presence of another person.

Joya—Langit’s mother—stared at her son, her chest tight. Her beloved, successful son now slept with random women. Her trip to France to visit the son who hadn’t returned to Indonesia in years left her shocked to see him in bed with someone who wasn’t his wife.

Stevani walked past Joya and offered a small smile, but it was met with a sharp, freezing glare from the nearly sixty-year-old woman.

Langit casually got out of bed, put on a satin robe, and walked toward his mother, whom he adored.

“Why didn’t you call me first if you were coming? If you had called, I would’ve picked you up at the airport,” he said calmly, leaning in to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away.

Joya was furious—her once polite, obedient son had turned reckless, even sleeping around.

Langit was taken aback when she avoided him, but he tried to smile, understanding she must be shocked.

“Since when did you become like this, El? Is this why you refuse to come home? Because you enjoy casual sex?” Joya asked with deep disappointment.

Langit smiled slightly. “Not exactly.”

The nearly twenty-five-year-old man walked past her into the kitchen.

“El, why have you become like this?” Joya’s voice trembled, tears pooling as she struggled to accept what her son had become.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m having fun,” Langit replied casually as he turned on the kettle. He intended to make his mother something to drink.

“How are you and Daddy?” he asked, trying to shift the topic away from himself.

Eight long years—he had left Indonesia eight years ago and never returned, even though his mother begged him countless times.

“Don’t change the subject, El! I’m shocked to see you like this. The lifestyle here isn’t good for you. I want you to come back to Indonesia. I don’t want you dumping your seeds into random women’s ponds,” Joya scolded, horrified by his wild behavior.

Langit laughed. He made her some tea, placed it on the table, and gestured for her to sit.

“Not random ponds, Mom. They’re all carefully selected and high-quality,” he said casually—causing Joya’s blood pressure to spike.

“El!” she snapped, anger bursting out of her. Her chest rose and fell heavily, her head throbbing from his nonsense.

“‘Them’? You actually sleep with more than one woman?” Joya’s anger only grew.

Langit chuckled and rested his head on her lap, closing his eyes with his arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t been this affectionate with her in ages.

“We’re just having fun, Mom. No seeds wasted in random ponds,” he said almost guiltlessly, despite her rising blood pressure.

“How can you say nothing’s wasted when you’ve been with more than one woman? El, why have you become like this, Sweetheart?” Joya looked down sadly at her son.

Langit smiled with his eyes still closed, then replied,

“They’re contained, Mom. So later they go into the trash.”

“You can’t throw your precious seeds into the trash either!” Joya grew even more upset.

Langit opened his eyes, noticing her rising anger. He sat up to face her.

“Putting them in ponds is wrong, throwing them away is wrong—so what am I supposed to do, Mom? Should I put them in the pond and give you a grandchild?” he teased instead of comforting her.

“El! You’re going to give me a stroke!” Joya’s voice shook, her chest rising and falling in frustration.

Langit laughed again, then lay back down on her lap, this time on his side.

“Mom, did you come here just to scold me? I missed you,” he said sweetly.

His words made Joya feel guilty. She had come because she missed him, but seeing his lifestyle had enraged her.

“I missed you too. Please come home, El. Mommy is getting old. If something happens to me and you’re not there, won’t you regret not seeing me one last time?”

Langit exhaled sharply. “Mommy and Daddy should move here. It’s the same, isn’t it?”

Returning to Indonesia was the one thing he avoided.

“No, you’re the one who needs to come home,” Joya insisted. “You’re afraid of seeing her, aren’t you? You’re a man, El. If you dare sleep with so many women, you should have the courage to face your own problems. Stop running away.” She gently stroked his hair.

Langit fell silent. She was right—he was running. Running from the reality of facing the girl he once loved deeply, who had shattered his heart.

‘I tried to forget her, but she keeps appearing every night, making it impossible for me to erase her name from my heart.’