When I Traded Love Away, He Begged for It Back

I must have called Carter over a dozen times after the car accident.

When he finally picked up, all I got was a half-hearted reply saying, "I’m busy. Whatever it is, we’ll talk at home."

Before I could say anything, the line went dead.

However, just before he hung up, I caught a faint giggle in the background. "Carter, it’s time to blow out the candles!"

I sat there for a moment, stunned.

Even though I was shaking, I ignored the pain I was feeling and opened Carter’s social media.

The top post, uploaded just a minute ago, read, "Happy birthday to the little princess."

The photo showed Carter with his arm around Ruby, who was blushing like crazy. He was staring at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

It was his assistant’s birthday party.

The realization hit me like a truck.

My vision blurred, and before I knew it, everything went black.

I woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by the pungent smell of antiseptic and the buzzing chatter and activity of busy nurses.

Thankfully, I was conscious enough to call an ambulance before trying to reach Carter.

The staff soon noticed I was awake and rushed over.

"Mild concussion from the accident," one said, "Plus fainting from emotional distress. You’ve got a few scrapes too. Call your family and stay here for a couple of days. Also, whatever you do, avoid stress."

The doctor handed me my phone and walked out.

Six hours. That was how long it had been since the accident. Despite that, I had not received a single call back from Carter.

I laughed bitterly. Somehow, the ache in my heart hurt more than the physical injuries I suffered.

When did things between us get this bad?

Just then, a weird little tune shattered my reverie.

I glanced at my phone.

A random page and notification had popped up.

"Love Pawnshop: Trade your love for a shot at redemption."

I read it out softly, with a volume that was barely above a whisper.

That must have triggered Siri because a tiny avatar appeared on-screen.

"Welcome to the Love Pawnshop," it said, its voice robotic and clipped. "Would you like to pawn your love?"

I froze. Pawn my love?

Me and Carter’s love?

We would have been together for a decade now—seven years dating, three years married.

Back then, we were the definition of a dream couple.

He was the wild, untamed heir who fell for the quiet, studious girl.

I still remember the day I agreed to be his girlfriend. His eyes lit up like fireworks. "Zendaya, I’ll make you the happiest person alive."

And for a while, he did.

The first nine years with him were everything I had ever wanted.

However, a year ago, something shifted.

Carter started to take over his family business and was running high.

That was the first time I heard about Ruby Seraphine.

She was the stereotypical intern who "accidentally" spilled coffee on him.

At first, all he did was complain. "Does she think life’s a rom-com? She’s such an idiot," he would say.

"This suit cost me a hundred grand! Can you imagine her face if I made her pay for it?" he added with a laugh that was not entirely nice.

I had brushed it off. "Just fire her if she’s that much trouble," I said.

However, he shook his head, smirking. "Nah. She’s entertaining for now."

I thought it was nothing, but I should have known—interest is often the first step to falling for someone.