Ending My Seven-Year Relationship with My Secret Boyfriend

Chapter 1

For seven years, I had been in a secret relationship with my brother’s best friend, Jason Ramirez.

One night, after drinking, he looked at me with a playful smirk and said, “Zoey, I’ll find you a better man. Stop clinging to me, okay?”

I replied calmly and obediently, “Alright.”

It was because, in a past life, I had refused his suggestion and insisted on marrying him. After our wedding, Jason ignored me, deliberately distanced himself, and made me feel invisible.

Even when I was eight months pregnant and suffered severe bleeding after a car accident, he was attending a concert with his heartbroken secretary, Shairine, enjoying her favorite band.

It was only then I realized—he was someone else’s salvation, but he was never meant to be my soulmate.

——

When I said “alright,” Jason froze in place. He hadn’t expected me to agree so readily.

The dim light of the private lounge cast soft shadows. His handsome face was tinged with an unusual flush, but his eyes remained clear, showing no sign of drunkenness.

I sat composedly, my posture graceful and polite, a faint smile gracing my lips as I looked at him.

At that instant, his earlier laziness vanished. Jason straightened his back and asked with a solemn expression, “Zoey, did you hear what I just said?”

I nodded. “I heard you clearly.”

In the past, whenever he said something like this, I would pout, act playful, and beg him not to bring it up again.

But now, my emotions were as calm as still water, as if I were merely a spectator watching a scene unfold, untouched and unmoved.

“Zoey, you...”

Before he could finish, my brother Yves returned from stepping outside. He entered with a teasing grin. “Guess who I just saw outside?”

Without waiting for a response, Yves continued, “I saw your ex-girlfriend. She seems drunk and was being helped into another lounge—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Jason shot up from his seat and strode out of the room. Moments later, the sound of commotion and shattering glass echoed from the hallway.

I remained in my seat, unfazed, casually eating the peeled tangerines from the fruit platter.

Jason liked fruit but hated peeling it. Every time, I would carefully peel it for him and place it in front of him, and only then would he take a few bites.

Yves often teased me about it. “You’re so good to him. Why don’t I ever see you treating your real brother like that? Could it be that you like him?”

Many times, I was tempted to reveal my relationship with Jason.

But Jason would always gently pat my head and speak first. “Maybe, in Zoey’s eyes, I’m more like a real brother than you are. Little sister spoiling her big brother—do you have a problem with that?”

Over time, I understood his intentions. He didn’t want anyone to know about us.

So, I kept silent as well.

For seven years, no one knew about the relationship between us.

Now, Yves stood by the door, watching the chaos unfold outside, waiting for the right moment to intervene.

Glancing back at me, still calmly eating fruit, he teased, “Zoey, your dear Jason just got into a fight. Aren’t you going to help him?”

I swallowed the last slice of tangerine and shook my head. “My arms are too thin, and my legs too weak. I’d only get in the way.”

Hearing this, Yves raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as he stepped out to assist.

I stayed in the lounge for a long time—long enough for the noise outside to quiet down. Only then did I get up and walk out.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, I saw Jason carefully holding another woman in his arms—his ex-girlfriend and future secretary, Shairine.

Shairine was drunk, her body was soft as if it had no bones, leaning heavily against him.

Jason didn’t push her away. Instead, he held her tightly, as if afraid she might slip away.

Chapter 2

Jason's deep, dark eyes showed a hint of anger mixed with concern—emotions he himself probably hadn’t realized.

Yves sauntered over, raising a brow as he teased, “Zoey, do you think those two might get back together?”

His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it was enough for Jason to hear.

Jason looked up abruptly at Yves’s words. When his gaze fell on me standing not far away, a fleeting trace of guilt appeared in his eyes.

“I never thought about getting back with her,” he explained, his voice hurried. “She was just drunk...”

I smiled faintly and shook my head. “Jason, I understand. Shairine seems really drunk. You should take her home.”

He frowned slightly, seemingly displeased with how I addressed him, but he didn’t reject my suggestion.

As he led Shairine away, he even turned back to instruct Yves, “Don’t let her wander around too late. Take her home early.”

Watching their departing figures, a sharp pain pricked my heart. Yet, at the same time, I found it painfully ironic.

In my past life, I had married Jason as I had always dreamed, but I didn't get the happiness I wanted.

On my birthday, I wished for nothing more than to spend a quiet day with him. Instead, he told me, “Celebrating birthdays is a waste of time. I’m busy; I don’t have time for that.”

Later that day, I saw photos on Shairine’s social media of them hiking and camping together.

When my stomach ulcer flared up, and I asked him to accompany me to the hospital for a check-up, he said, “I’m not a doctor. Having me there won’t make you better. Don’t bother me.”

Yet I found out later that he had taken Shairine to the hospital for nothing more than a mild cold.

When I was eight months pregnant and suffered massive bleeding from a car accident, the doctor called him urgently, asking him to come sign the consent form for surgery.

However, his reply was as cold as ice. “Is she dead? If not, don’t call me.”

As his words echoed through the phone, I heard Shairine’s excited voice in the background. “Jason, this concert was totally worth it! They’re finally on stage!”

The call ended, and blood soaked the sheets beneath me, spreading rapidly until half the blanket was stained red.

The crushing pain in my heart from my death in my previous life felt suffocating as I remembered it. Clutching my chest, I let out a bitter smile.

Jason, if you never loved me, then I won’t love you anymore either.

That night, Yves took me home just in time to meet the curfew our father had set.

The next morning, I woke up groggily and reached for my phone to check the time. What greeted me instead was a message from Shairine.

She sent a photo of Jason sleeping at her house, along with the caption. [Jason stayed at my place last night to keep me company.]

Seeing her message, I felt nothing. I replied curtly with an “Oh.”

I ignored her after that, but she wasn’t willing to let it go. Soon, she sent another photo—this time of breakfast.

[This is the breakfast Jason made for me this morning.] She wrote. [He even made me heart-shaped fried eggs, my favorite.]

Jason had never once stepped into the kitchen when he was with me. He always said the kitchen was a woman’s domain, and men shouldn’t enter.

So, for him, I—a person who had never cooked before—enrolled in a cooking class just to learn. As long as I was there, he always had warm, home-cooked meals waiting for him.

But seeing how much effort he put into Shairine, I realized just how ridiculous I had been.

I glanced at her messages, didn’t reply, and calmly set my phone down to continue eating breakfast.

Five minutes later, a message from Jason popped up.

He didn’t mention last night at all, instead saying, [The yam and pork rib soup you made last time was pretty good. Make some for me today and bring it to the office.]

[Oh, and don’t add scallions this time.]

Chapter 3

Seeing the message, my expression darkened slightly.

Jason didn’t have a habit of avoiding scallions. In fact, he always believed scallions enhanced the flavor of soup.

After a moment’s thought, I replied with a simple, [Okay.]

Once I sent the message, I decisively opened a food delivery app and ordered a random yam and pork rib soup to be delivered to his office.

That evening, I went out to dinner with my brother.

We had just arrived at the restaurant we’d reserved when we saw Jason and Shairine walking in, arms linked and smiling sweetly.

The moment Jason spotted us, he instinctively let go of her hand and walked toward us.

Shairine’s expression faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly composed herself and approached with a smile. “We’re late, and there aren’t any open tables. Would you mind if we joined yours?”

Without waiting for a reply, Jason sat down next to me.

Yves’ eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly stood up, pulling him to switch seats. “What are you thinking? How is it appropriate for me to sit next to her?”

Reluctantly, Jason let himself be nudged into the seat across from me. His eyes carried a hint of displeasure, as if waiting for me to say something.

Avoiding his gaze, I handed the menu to Shairine. “Shairine, why don’t you order what you two would like? My brother and I have already decided.”

She took the menu with a smile, trying to appear natural. “Zoey, the yam and pork rib soup you make is so delicious—much better than anything sold outside.”

Her words confirmed my suspicion. The soup Jason asked me to make was for her.

I smiled faintly but said nothing.

Yves, however, seemed impressed. “She had this sudden urge to take cooking lessons a while ago. I was worried she’d blow up the kitchen, but it turns out she’s a natural. I wonder which lucky guy will benefit from this in the future.”

Jason had been smiling subtly, but at those words, his smile faded. Slowly, he sipped his tea and asked calmly, “Zoey, are you thinking about dating?”

I looked at him in confusion.

Recalling the words he said in the private room that day, I nodded slightly. “I’m 26 this year. It’s time for me to start dating. If you knows someone suitable, I’d appreciate an introduction.”

“You’ve finally come to your senses!” Yves was more excited than anyone. Laughing, he said, “I’ve been trying to set you up for ages, but you kept refusing. Now that you’re finally open to the idea, I’ll do my best to find you a great boyfriend!”

After Yves’ words, Jason’s thin lips pressed tightly together. His sharp gaze stayed fixed on me, as though trying to read my emotions.

Shairine noticed the shift in his mood and giggled. “Zoey, you’re so lucky to have such a great brother. I’m honestly a little jealous. But you know, I think Jason is pretty great. What if...”

“Don’t say such things. Zoey is my little sister,” Jason interrupted her with a frown, his tone laced with faint reproach, though his expression held only exasperation.

I nodded in agreement, smiling. “Exactly. I see Jason as my own brother. Shairine, you shouldn’t joke about things like that.”

“And honestly, I think you and Jason are a better match than me,” I added.

Jason’s face darkened instantly. His eyes glinted with faint anger as he gave a sharp laugh. “Is that so? Well then, how about I introduce someone to you? Would you make time to meet them?”

“Sure. Thank you in advance, Jason.” I smiled brightly and agreed without hesitation.

For the next few days, I didn’t contact Jason, and he didn’t contact me either.

Instead, it was Shairine who showed up at my door.

When she arrived, both Yves and I happened to be at home.

Chapter 4

“What’s the matter? Spit it out,” Yves said bluntly.

Feigning a hint of shyness, Shairine cast a quick glance my way before addressing him. “Yves, you know how Jason and I grew up together as childhood sweethearts. Even though we’ve broken up and gotten back together a few times, we still have feelings for each other.”

“It was my fault for suggesting we break up during our last fight. This time, I want to confess and get back together with him. Can you two help me?”

If I hadn’t lived through my past life, I might have immediately declared that Jason loved me and would never agree to get back with her. I would have told her to give up.

But because of everything I experienced in my past life, I knew clearly that Jason cared deeply for her. They were meant to be together.

“Sure, that’s no trouble at all. Honestly, everyone can tell Jason still has feelings for you. If you confess, it’ll definitely work out!” Yves responded matter-of-factly.

A smile of confidence spread across Shairine’s face as she looked at me with an air of triumph.

I remained indifferent, not taking it to heart.

Two days later, Yves and Jason’s friends had planned the perfect confession setup. They all agreed that true feelings were revealed in moments of crisis, so the idea was to take everyone to a mountain stream for a whitewater rafting trip.

When we reached the destination, I initially refused to go since I didn’t know how to swim, but Shairine grabbed my hand and insisted I join them on the raft.

Shairine was terrified of water and clung tightly to Jason.

Yves, understanding the unspoken plan, stepped aside to give them space and sat down next to me.

As the raft drifted down the stream, Shairine was so frightened that she practically threw herself onto Jason.

Instead of pushing her away, he gently patted her back and reassured her, “Don’t be scared, I’m here.”

His voice was incredibly soft and patient, as if soothing a child.

For a fleeting moment, I was reminded of our early days of marriage in my past life.

Back then, I was full of hope for our lives together. I took it upon myself to handle every detail of our home, believing that my efforts would make him feel the warmth of a family.

But one night, after I picked him up from a drunken night out, I overheard him venting to Shairine.

In his drunken stupor, he muttered, “I feel like I didn’t marry a wife—I married a nanny. She has to control everything and nags me nonstop. I don’t even want to go home anymore.”

“You, on the other hand, are so much better. You know when to give me space and never make me feel annoyed.”

Before I could process the bitter memory, a nearby raft lost control and collided violently with ours, snapping me back to the present.

It was too late to react. The impact rocked our raft so hard, and I was about to pull Yves to steady myself, but someone grabbed my arm instead.

Before I could respond, I was yanked off balance and plunged into the stream with a loud splash.

The icy water filled my mouth and throat, leaving me gasping for air as I struggled frantically.

In the haze of my panic, I caught a glimpse of Jason jumping off the raft.

For a brief moment, hope flickered in my heart as I waved my arms, desperate for him to notice me.

But I watched, with crushing clarity, as he swam straight past me without hesitation—to save Shairine.

Zoey, what are you still hoping for?

I wanted to laugh at myself but couldn’t even muster the strength.

Thankfully, Yves reached me in time and pulled me back to shore.

As I caught my breath, still trembling from the ordeal, he suddenly said, “The confession setup is ready. Let’s go watch the show.”

He grabbed my hand and led me to the grass field.

On the lawn, Jason’s friends had arranged a giant heart made of fresh flowers. Inside the heart were mementos from their relationship: handwritten love letters, photos they’d taken together, and various gifts exchanged on holidays and birthdays.

Jason stood there, drenched and visibly stunned as he took it all in.

Shairine, holding a bouquet of flowers, stepped in front of him and began pouring her heart out, confessing her love for him.

A gentle breeze swept by, stirring ripples in the calm waters of my heart.

I told myself that they loved each other, and being together was the best arrangement.

When the cheers and shouts from the crowd urging him to accept her confession grew louder, I joined in, clapping and calling out, “Say yes! Be together!”

Jason turned to me, his expression was one of utter disbelief.

“Zoey, are you out of your mind? Did you forget that I’m your boyfriend?” he said.