The 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 commentsa nasty mix of praise and condemnationthen 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.
1
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, its the necklace Ive 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, Thats great. And the toddler? Whats my big boy doing? Why are you playing with Daddys 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 Id 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 wasnt fiction. That was life.
I gripped the steering wheel, managing a calm, chilling smile as I glanced at Harpers astonished face.
Because I was the stupid little childhood sweetheart whose boyfriend was stolen.
2
Deans parents and mine were inseparable, practically family.
Dean and I, wed shared a crib. We were the literal definition of childhood sweethearts.
Growing up, Dean was quiet, reserved, and almost painfully awkward.
Mr. and Mrs. Reed often sighed, calling him their little 'stone statue.'
In school, his honest, submissive nature made him an easy target for bullies.
Luckily, I was the resident wild childa terror in pigtails.
If Dean got cornered, Id rally my sisterhood and wed go to war.
The kids we beat up would stick out their chins and shout:
Look at him! A boy who needs a girl to protect him! Shame!
Id immediately grab a rock and hurl it at them.
Say that again, and Ill pull down your shorts and parade you through the quad!
I was always furious on his behalf, but Dean would just tug on my sleeve and press a piece of candy into my palm.
Id chew the candy, exasperated. Dean, dont be such a doormat. Your parents are worried sick. Can you try to be a man?
Hed just offer a gentle smile and ask if I had enough candy. Id grab his ear and twist it in pure frustration.
Its fair to say that I protected Dean through our entire childhood and adolescence.
He was always that sweet, mild-mannered boy. No matter how many times I drilled him on standing up for himself, hed only smile and say:
Ill just focus on being your strongest backup, Sierra.
Eventually, I gave up trying to change him. I even stepped in to defend him when Mr. and Mrs. Reed would scold him.
It was half-serious, half-teasing, when Deans parents would say:
Oh, Dean. What on earth will you do without Sierra?
Dean would look at me with earnest, serious eyes. Do we have to be apart? I want to be with Sierra forever.
Id just laugh, flexing my small arm.
Dont worry, Mr. and Mrs. Reed! Ill take care of Dean! As long as I have a meal, hell have the best seat at the table!
It was just child talk, but Dean never forgot those words.
The day he finally confessed, he clung to me, his voice thick with emotion.
Sierra, you promised youd take care of me. Dont ever leave me, okay?
Be with me, please?
I thought then that Dean was the most hopelessly stubborn boy I knew. He was fiercely devoted, stuck to his convictions, and once he made a decision, he followed it to the end.
Thats how he was when he confessed to me.
And thats how he was the day I caught him, fiercely defending Tatum.
Youre kidding me?! Harper shrieked. She pointed at the phone. So, the Tatum you mentioned... shes the the one who posted the thread?
Yes, I said simply.
The woman who posted the thread.
Harper buried her face in her hands, tugging at her hair. Why? You had two decades of history! Does a childhood bond really lose to a sudden, dazzling arrival?
I didnt have an answer for that then, and I dont really have one now.
Looking back, the root cause of our implosion wasn't even about love.
It was about trust.
How darkly ironic. Two people who had lived in each others shadows since birth, closer than siblings, ended up tearing each other apart over a fundamental lack of faith.
Dean and Tatums meeting was completely ordinary. They were in the same university class, grouped together for a project.
I first met her when Dean came to deliver me my first pumpkin spice latte of the season.
I was ecstatic when I walked downstairs, but the first thing I saw was Tatums arm slung casually over Deans shoulder, their heads close together.
When she saw me, Tatum whistled and called out in a loud, carefree voice:
Hey, sis-in-law!
My gut clenched. I saw a flash of sharp, competitive light in her eyesthe exact kind Id seen a thousand times in the girls whod tried to compete with me for Deans attention growing up.
I realized instantly that she saw me as a rival.
I warned Dean about herrepeatedly. I told him Tatum wasnt as innocent as she seemed. I even said she was clearly flirting with him.
But Dean would simply maintain his gentle smile and reassure me:
Sierra, youre overthinking this. Tatum has high standards. She would never be interested in me.
His complete dismissal of my warning. The slight, almost imperceptible leap in his voice when he mentioned her name. And the hint of genuine disappointment in that phrase, She would never be interested in me.
Every detail made my skin crawl.
Our fights began, escalating quickly. But this time, Deanthe one who always came back tearfully begging for reconciliationchose silence. He chose the cold war.
3
For three days, I felt like I was sitting on shattered glass.
At dinner, distracted and sick to my stomach, I dropped and broke my spoon.
When I leaned down to pick up the pieces, the world went black, and I collapsed.
When I woke up, the doctor told me I was pregnant.
In a daze, completely overwhelmed, I immediately called Dean.
Half an hour later, he burst through the hospital room door, breathless.
Mrs. Reed followed him, happily taking my mothers hand and telling her not to worry, that I was now part of their family.
From that day on, Dean was a shadow. He was meticulous in caring for me, catering to my every mood swing during those difficult first weeks.
But slowly, his course load became "too demanding." The group projects piled up. He started coming home later and later.
Until the day of my first solo prenatal check-up, when Dean never showed up at all.
I used every trick I knew to get Tatums address.
The door wasn't locked. As I pushed it open, the sound hit me first: the low, unmistakable sound of entangled breaths coming from the back room.
The tension that had been building inside me for weeks, combined with the crushing sickness of early pregnancy, finally snapped.
I grabbed the fruit knife from the kitchen table and ran into the bedroom like a lunatic.
I was screaming, swinging the knife wildly, unleashing all the resentment and pain that had been building inside me.
There was a muffled cry of pain.
Dean had thrown himself in front of Tatum, and my desperate swipe had sliced a long, ugly wound across his forearm.
Blood welled up instantly and streamed down his arm. But Dean didn't look at his wound; his eyes were fixed on me.
He finally roared at me.
Sierra! Have you lost your mind?!
In twenty-three years, that was the first time Dean had ever stood his ground with such force.
The first time he had ever displayed such overwhelming certainty and protectiveness.
And it was all for the woman he loved.
It was a version of him I had never seen before. Every movement, every fierce look in his eyesit was all for Tatum.
We were done. Completely and irrevocably.
He moved back to the university dorms. I turned around and terminated the pregnancy.
When Mrs. Reed found out, she ordered Dean to come home and beg for my forgiveness.
Deans eyes were fixed on my stomach, and he didnt say a word.
But I wasn't the kind of girl to just walk away in silent defeat.
I spread the pictures of Deans affair all over the university. I compiled a damning presentation and uploaded it online. I stood outside the student dorms with a megaphone and broadcast their secret relationship to everyone.
I wasnt a fragile, heartbroken little girl who would simply vanish after being wronged.
I intended to make Dean understand the cost of crossing me.
If I wasnt going to be okay, neither were they.
But within days, my own private photosintimate shots Dean and I had takenwere leaked.
They spread with a force that completely overshadowed the news of Deans infidelity.
The scandal raged for two weeks, until the university board cited me for "disrupting the campus environment" and suspended me.
Dean, the star student, faced no disciplinary action whatsoever.
My mother, heartbroken, officially withdrew me from school.
She said we would move to a new city and start over.
On the day we moved, Mr. and Mrs. Reed came to the house, burdened with shame and apologies.
Dean stood outside the door, where my father had forbidden him to cross the threshold.
Just before getting into the car, I walked over to him.
I had to know. I desperately needed to know why.
Why had we ended up like this? Why the betrayal? Why the cruelty?
Dean was silent for a long time, and then he said words I would never, ever forget.
4
He said:
Sierra, you are consumed by jealousy. You are selfish and self-centered. You only ever think about yourself. To you, I was just an appendage.
You used me to advertise your success, to prove how charming you were.
Tatum is different. She supports me, she understands me, and she knows what I truly want.
I stared at him, and my first instinct was to burst into a sharp, hysterical laugh.
So, for twenty-three years, that was what he really thought of me.
In that instant, a strange calmness washed over me. The pain, the crushing resentment, the humiliationit all seemed to vanish.
I nodded, smiling coldly.
Fine. If thats the case, lets agree to never cross paths again. It saves us the trouble of being disgusted by each other.
Dean frowned, hesitation crossing his face.
Were only breaking up. But we still have all those years of history. If you ever need my help
I cut him off, a wave of pure revulsion washing over me.
Dont worry.
Id rather die than ever speak to you again.
With that, I turned my back, got into the car, and drove away from the place where I had suffered so deeply.
...
When I finished the story, the car was silent for a long time.
Harper maintained her expression of sheer shock for three full minutes before saying numbly:
I thought guys this messed up only existed in bad fiction... I cant believe hes real.
After another long pause, she asked, her voice laced with confusion, So, why do you still have his number? A guy like thatkeeping his contact is like keeping a copy of your own criminal record!
I gave a casual shrug. That was his secondary account. I forgot to delete it when I nuked everything else.
The car pulled up smoothly to my condo building. Harper clung to my arm as we walked.
We are ordering the best food tonight. That story made me physically ill. I need my Sierra-made butter tarts to recover
We both stopped dead, mid-sentence.
A solitary figure was standing right outside my door.
He must have been there for a while; a thick dusting of snow covered the shoulders of his coat.
He turned at the sound of our voices.
It was Dean.

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