He Called Me A Delivery Girl To Hide His Affair

At three in the morning, my long-distance boyfriend, Dorian Vladimir, posted a short, pouty video on his Instagram Story, claiming he was running a fever and was completely miserable.

Half a minute later, the story vanished.

My stomach twisted into a knot. I pictured him alone, miles away in Boston, and panicked that something serious was wrong. I threw on clothes, hailed a car, and rushed to the airport, determined to cross state lines to see him.

I finally flew across the country and practically ran up to his apartment building.

Thats when I saw a delivery guy fumbling with the entry code, a small, discreet pharmacy bag with the tell-tale shape of a box of protection clearly visible.

I wasn't even there. He was sick. Why was he ordering condoms?

A dark, impulsive thought made me move. I pulled out my phone, found a recent photo of Dorian and me, and showed it to the delivery guy.

Im his fiance, Aurora Vladimir. He must have ordered something for me. Ill take it up.

Holding that small, damning package of condoms, I felt completely detached from my body as I waited for the elevator.

The ride to the eighteenth floor was faster than I wanted it to be.

My hand was shaking as I pressed the doorbell.

Dorians voice was quick to answer from inside. When the door opened, he froze, but there was no rush of panic like I expected. There was no attempt to hide the pale, pink mark visible above the collar of his shirt, or the fact that his phone screen saverwhich he was holdingwas a photo of him and some other woman.

He looked down at my worn sneakers and the pharmacy bag in my hand. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his voice heavy with annoyance.

Aurora, what are you doing here?

When he saw my eyes were already burning with unshed tears, he sighed, a sound heavy with false suffering.

Ive been trying to figure out how to tell you, but since youre here, it saves me the effort. He met my gaze, his expression brutally frank. As you can see, I moved on. This is on me, entirely. She has nothing to do with it, so dont go after her. Ill give you whatever compensation you want.

I had rehearsed a hundred excuses he might give, a hundred lies I would have to call him on. I never expected him to be so direct, so bored of me. It was as if I truly disgusted him.

Swallowing the bitter acid in my throat, I still clung to one last sliver of hope.

Why, Dorian? You promised me wed be married as soon as your three-year assignment was up and you transferred back to Charleston. We only had two months left. What changed?

Nothing changed. I just got bored. I got tired. I decided it wasnt worth continuing.

Just then, a girls voice, thick with sleepy intimacy, called out from inside.

Who is it, honey? Why are you taking so long? Dont catch a coldcome take your medicine.

Dorian replied with a softened, gentle tone, I know, sweetie.

Then he turned back to me, the impatience flooding his eyes again.

Aurora, you know what? Watching you cry right now, I dont feel guilt. I only feel annoyed. Go home. Dont make this any more embarrassing for yourself.

His words choked all the questions and pleas I had left.

The girl, Blair, appeared at that moment. She was wearing the old, oversized MIT sweatshirt Id bought Dorian last Christmas, and on her feet were the thick, woolen slippers Id personally knitted him. In her hand, she was waving a draft of their wedding invitations. She wrapped her arms around Dorians waist and looked at me with open hostility.

Who is she, Dorian? What are you two talking about?

A flash of genuine panic finally crossed Dorians face. He snatched the pharmacy bag from my hand.

Just a delivery. She was pestering me for a good rating.

With a heavy Slam! he shut the door in my face. My nose hit the cold wood, a sharp, stinging pain. The hand holding the bag of cold medicine Id brought him hovered awkwardly in the empty air.

The noise made the neighbors door across the hall open.

The person who stepped out was Dorians mother, Charlotte. She had always insisted she would never leave our hometown, that she would wait there with me until Dorian transferred back from Boston. Yet, here she was, in this strange city, all for Dorians new woman.

I looked at her familiar face, unable to speak. I remembered how good she had always been to me, saving me the best treats, always taking my side in fights with Dorian, and always telling people that Dorian had to marry me. Now, her expression was complicated, a mix of pity and discomfort.

Aurora, why did you come all this way so late? she asked, pulling the jacket around me.

That small gesture of kindness broke me. My tears finally burst forth.

Charlotte, why? We were so close to getting married. Why did it all change?

Her face softened with a brief flicker of guilt, but her words were direct.

Its been three years, honey. People change. Blair her family and her connections are just beyond anything anyone else can offer. They can put Dorian on a fast track in his career. And honestly, Blair is younger, and healthier.

Charlotte glanced briefly at my stomach before continuing, her voice lower.

The babies they have will be healthier. Aurora, you don't want to be a roadblock to Dorians entire future, do you?

Four years of love, three years of waiting in a long-distance relationship, and at twenty-nine, I was merely a roadblock to Dorian Vladimirs real life.

I was suddenly empty of all words. I simply nodded, signaling my understanding, and silently walked away toward the train station.

Watching the familiar landscape blur past the train window, my heart was a dull ache.

Dorian and I had traveled this routethis 121,500-mile stretchhundreds of times over the last three years. Every hurried visit, every brief embrace, had felt worth the sacrifice.

During the first year, he was devoted. Hed send me everythingfrom a beautiful, unusual stone he found on a campus walk to a high-end neck massager he and his friends tested at a store. Hed buy it for me, even if he couldnt afford one for himself.

Once, I was helping a friend get tests done and casually snapped a picture of a beautiful cherry blossom tree, tagging the location. When he saw the hospital geo-tag, he panicked and called me immediately. My phone battery had died.

When I finally managed to turn it back on, I had over a hundred missed calls and countless worried texts. Dorian had called every friend and relative he knew trying to find me. Everyone knew I had a crazy, deeply devoted long-distance boyfriend.

When I walked out of the hospital, he was standing there, looking like hed been dragged through a hedge backward. He hugged me, crying and swearing, his voice raw.

Why was your phone off? Your driving is terrible, I thought youd been in a wreck! I thought I was going to lose you.

He swore he regretted accepting the prestigious research position and would quit and come back to Charleston to marry me.

But somewhere along the way, everything began to shift.

Dorians visits to Charleston grew fewer, while my trips to Boston became constant. I heard a rumor that his institute was opening a new branch in Charleston. When I asked him about transferring, he was vague, claiming a new, complex project kept him tied to the lab.

Our wedding date was pushed back again and again. One year became two, then three.

My growing insecurity made me constantly check up on him.

Then came the video call where Blair first appeared. She kept distracting him, making silly faces over his shoulder, or playfully tugging on his collar. Dorian, usually so reserved and cold about his academic work, didnt show any impatience. He just gave her a soft, warning look that was clearly full of indulgence.

When I asked who the girl was, he said, with an overly casual air,

Just a clumsy new kid in the lab.

An icy dread washed over me. The very first time Dorian had introduced me to his closest friends, hed used that exact phrase: My clumsy kid back home.

After that, Blairs presence became a subtle but constant fixture in our calls. Dorian never seemed to notice the unconscious, soft smile that always played on his lips when he looked at her.

Miles away, and powerless, I doubled down on my check-ins, needing constant reassurance, until he was simply annoyed by my neediness.

Lost in memory, a sharp, piercing car horn blast ripped me back to reality. I was standing in the middle of a busy street. A sedan was speeding toward me, its brakes screaming a painful, high-pitched shriek.

The world flipped and spun, and then everything went black.

When I woke up, I heard the anxious, hurried voices of medical staff, and then the loud, amplified sound of a phone on speaker.

Hello, you are the last contact for this phone. The owner was in a serious car accident and is unconscious. Her situation is critical. Can you come to the hospital to sign the paperwork and arrange payment?

Silence hung heavy for a few seconds. Then Dorians voice, husky and breathless, came through the speaker.

She just delivered something to my apartment. I dont know her.

A dial tone followed immediately.

The chilling cold of the denial, the ultimate abandonment, sank deeper than the physical trauma. I felt as if the impact of the car had also shattered my heart, leaving me in agonizing pieces I couldnt put back together.

I dont remember much after that, only that the first person I saw when my mind finally cleared was my mother, Charlotte, who had rushed over from Charleston. Seeing the silver streaks multiplying in her hair, the guilt overwhelmed me. My fathers kidney failure had already drained her emotionally and physically; now I had caused her more distress.

Tears streamed down my face. Not wanting to burden her further, I insisted on leaving the hospital after just two days and returning to Charleston.

No sooner had I arrived home than I received the notice: Dorian had unilaterally withdrawn his seed investment from my design studio.

Panic set in. I called Dorian immediately.

On the thirty-second attempt, he finally answered.

His voice, familiar yet chillingly detached, cut through the line. Talk.

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to speak.

I saw that you pulled the investment from my studio. Its a small business, Dorian. If that funding is gone, the studio is over. My father finally got a kidney match. We need that money for the surgery now. Please, can you just wait, or postpone the withdrawal?

Aurora, by what authority are you making demands of me? Let me be perfectly clear: we are broken up.

I felt the flush of shame, but I had no ground to stand on.

Can you just loan it to me for now? Ill pay you high interest. Please. Dad finally matched with a donor. This is the only chance he has. Im begging you. He was always so good to you, you cant

Enough.

Dorians voice was sharp with irritation.

Aurora, stop trying to morally blackmail me. I was kind enough to wait this long to break up with you. Your father needs a new kidneythat has nothing to do with me. Why should I finance his illness?

His tone softened slightly, but only to deliver the final blow. And please, stop calling me. My fiance doesnt like it.

He hung up.

My heart plummeted. I was adrift, completely lost. Could I really let go of my fathers only chance?

I tried calling again, desperate enough to grovel, to beg. But when I dialed, I realized he had blocked my number entirely.

A searing, inexpressible pain clenched my throat. Just two days ago, he was still my Dorian. How could everything change so completely, so viciously, overnight? I even found myself wondering if I was to blame for showing up at his door that night, for embarrassing him. But I was just worried about him...

The following weeks were a blur of frantic attempts to raise money. I was still reeling when Dorian and Blairs wedding invitations arrived in Charleston. They were high-profile, showing off their engagement to everyone we knew.

The invitations were printed with real gold foil. The wedding favors were bespoke, artisanal rose-flavored confections created by a famous pastry designer, rumored to cost over a hundred dollars apiece.

My phone immediately flooded with questions from old friends.

What the hell? Dorians getting married, and its not you? When did you two break up?

No way. You waited seven years for him, and hes marrying someone else? Thats not a man, Aurora. What are you going to do, youre nearly thirty?

You should have moved to Boston with him. Then that gold-digger couldnt have gotten her claws in. I dont know why you stuck around, clinging to that half-dead Solstice Weave studio just for your dad.

My mother also received an invitation, but she didnt question me. She just quietly packed away the binders of wedding ideas I had collected over the years. I think the car accident had already shown her the terrifying truth.

What I didnt expect was for Blair to seek me out a week before the wedding.

She wasnt the aggressive, fiery rival I expected. She was surprisingly polite.

Ms. Vladimir, Im so sorry. I didnt know you were Dorians ex last time; I thought you were just a delivery person. She spoke with an innocent sweetness that felt calculated.

I hear Dorian absolutely loves your homemade chicken pot pie. I was hoping you could teach me your recipe? You know what they saythe way to a mans heart is through his stomach.

Her request was so bizarre, I didn't know how to respond.

Are you unwilling, Aurora? Do you still think you can win Dorian back? she pressed, her tone suddenly sharper.

I shook my head, embarrassed, and reluctantly agreed to her demand.

Blair wasnt the spoiled rich girl Id imagined when it came to learning. She was fiercely determined. Her hands blistered several times while she learned the process, but she stubbornly carried on.

I asked her why she was bothering; her family was wealthy, they could hire a professional chef to perfect the recipe.

She just smiled blissfully.

Because hes worth it. Did you know hes so busy with his research, but he still carves out time to hand-make me tiramisu? And this ring? He worked on the design for a whole year.

She was gushing now. He even used my name in his latest mathematical formula that was publishedhis department head apparently called him a lovesick idiot.

I barely heard the rest.

A year. I was still asking Dorian about our wedding date a year ago, and he was already designing a ring for another woman.

I remembered once jokingly asking Dorian to name one of his formulas after me. He looked at me with open scorn.

Aurora, do you still think youre an eighteen-year-old girl? Dont make such ridiculous demands. Science is sacred. Its not something you use for your little romance games.

I understood now. Science wasnt sacred. Blair was sacred. Science was a distant second. And I didn't even rank high enough to be an afterthought.

As she was leaving, Blair seemed pleased with herself. She magnanimously offered me a chance to regain Dorians investment.

The condition: I had to use my signature Solstice Weave embroidery to design their wedding attire.

I was desperate for the money. Despite the protest in my soul, I had no choice but to accept.

My fathers condition worsened. Unable to secure the surgery funds, I was frantic.

I worked two all-nighters, finally completing the two elaborate pieces. Freshly discharged from the hospital, I carried the two heavy garment bags in the freezing, below-zero weather.

By the time I reached Dorians apartment, I was exhausted. I found a chair near a heating vent and collapsed into it.

Before I could even settle, Blair complained that she was cold.

Dorian immediately pulled me up and pushed me to the side, allowing Blair to take my warm spot. I was forced to sit by the window, letting the cold draft seep into my clothes and raise goosebumps all over my skin.

Blair, basking in the warmth, began to inspect the wedding outfit Id created. Her face suddenly twisted in anger.

Dorian, the embroidery on your jacket is wrong! Its not the traditional style. Aurora, you knew we wouldnt recognize the difference. You were deliberately playing a trick, trying to curse us!

Dorians face darkened instantly. He looked at me with cold fury.

Why would you do that? Explain yourself.

Its a variation of the Solstice Weave, one of the newer techniques. Its rare, but its recognized. My voice was shaky from exhaustion and the cold. I rushed to defend myself.

Stop making excuses! Youre just jealous that I get to marry Dorian, so you deliberately sabotaged us.

Dorian looked at me with pure annoyance and weariness.

Aurora, honestly, youre pathetic. Do you really think these childish tactics are going to make me change my mind? I dont love you anymore. Nothing you do can change that. Do you understand?

Are you honestly telling me that sabotaging my future happiness makes you happy?

His words struck me like a physical blow.

No, I didnt

Then what is it? How else are you going to lie your way out of this?

He had forgotten. Years ago, at the height of our love, I had used the traditional, heavy stitch to make him a couples jacket. The stiff embroidery had chafed his broad shoulders raw, but he endured the pain all night, praising the design. When I saw his torn skin at home, I was hysterical.

After that, I spent months developing a new, softer stitch just for himthe technique that later won an award and was formally recognized by the guild as the Solstice Weave.

My Aurora is the most brilliant, he had held me tight and whispered then.

Now, he had erased it all.

I dont know how many times I had to apologize before Blair was placated enough for me to gather the rejected garments and escape. The promised investment, naturally, was lost.

Just as I stepped out of Dorians building, I got a call from my mother.

Aurora, your father is fading fast. He still doesnt know about you and Dorian, and hes asking for him. He wants to see him.

Hearing the words, my legs gave out. I sank onto the cold ground. It took me a long time to pull myself up from the snow.

Hesitantly, I dialed a number.

Three days later, the hospital issued another critical notice for my father. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, weakly gripping my hand and murmuring, Be good to Dorian

My mother turned away, her eyes red.

The door to the room opened. To my mothers shock, Dorian walked in.

But a second later, another tall, handsome man pushed the door open, following him. He looked at Dorian, then at me, confusion plain in his voice.

What? Are two future sons-in-law here for the visit?