Five Years of Us

A picture surfaced of my girlfriend of five years, award-winning actress Ava Stone, spending the night with a mysterious man.
To protect this man, an actor named Ethan Reed, she posted an intimate photo of them on her social media, officially confirming their relationship.
Her caption read: Waiting for the leaves to fall, for the winter wind, for the autumn fireworks, and for a better us. From start to finish, I have only ever loved one person.
I stared at the photo, at the man whose face was a near-perfect mirror of my own, and a chill spread through me, cold and absolute.
All these years, I had been nothing but a stand-in.
Ava called me almost immediately. "Ethan just returned to the country; we can't let his reputation take a hit," she explained, her voice rushed. "This is just for work, a PR move. Don't take it seriously."
I replied, my own voice flat, "It's fine. I understand."
My lack of reaction seemed to confuse her. "You're not jealous today?" she asked, a note of suspicion in her tone.
…
Less than thirty minutes after she hung up, Ava was home.
I expected her to continue her explanation, but she didn't. She acted as if nothing had happened, handing me a beautifully wrapped gift. "See if you like it. I picked it out especially for you."
It was a Patek Philippe watch. Expensive. I'd heard of the brand. She often brought me small gifts when she came home, but never anything like this. Perhaps she knew this time was different.
Before, a piece of cake, a hug, even just a smile was enough to soothe me. But today, not even a million-dollar watch could erase the blankness from my face. I just said a quiet, "Thank you."
A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. She could sense something was wrong, deeply wrong. But she didn't dare bring up the announcement with Ethan—her guilty conscience wouldn't let her. Instead, she changed the subject. "Liam, I'm starving. Could you make me some of your chicken noodle soup with wontons?"
The wontons were pre-made, but the chicken broth had to be simmered for hours. Any other time, the mere mention of her craving would have sent me rushing to the kitchen, happy to cook for her, no matter how much trouble it was. But today, I felt nothing. No desire to please, no desire to cook.
"There's bread in the fridge. You can have that if you're hungry."
"Liam!"
My detached tone finally broke her composure. "Can you stop being so childish?" she snapped. "Do you have any idea how many appearances I canceled just to come home and deal with you? Can't you be more understanding about my job?"
"No," I cut her off.
I looked up, my eyes as still and dark as a midnight lake. "Ava, let's break up."
Even after days of mentally preparing for this, the words still felt like a punch to the gut. A dull ache spread through my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I forced them out.
This ridiculous, secret relationship had gone on for five years. It was over. We were over.
I couldn't stand waiting for her in this empty apartment anymore. I couldn't stand seeing her name linked with other men in the tabloids. I couldn't stand loving her anymore.
I was tired.
At the word "breakup," Ava's face went white. A look of pure, unadulterated shock and panic crossed her features.
Before she could say anything, I opened the door and walked out.
Since getting together with Ava, I'd become a recluse, my life revolving around her schedule. I hadn't seen my friends in ages. So, when an invitation came, I went.
After a few rounds of drinks, they noticed my distraction. I told them we'd broken up.
"Broken up? When did you even start dating someone? How did you meet?"
The rapid-fire questions threw me back to a summer in middle school, the summer I met Ava.
I was being bullied for getting the highest grades in the school. They'd locked me in a bathroom stall. That's where I found her, just as trapped and miserable as I was. In that moment, our shared fate seemed to bind us together.
After middle school, she moved to another city with her divorced mother, but we never lost touch. Five years ago, after I graduated from college, I moved to her city to be with her, to support her career. That's when we finally became a couple.
But she knew. She knew.
Ethan Reed was the one who bullied me back then.
The rowdy chatter of my friends pulled me back to the present. I pointed a lazy finger at a poster on the wall. "That's her," I said with a bitter laugh. "My girlfriend of five years."
The poster was an ad for Ava and Ethan's new movie. She'd fought to get him the leading role. They were pressed close together, their eyes locked in a smoldering gaze. They looked perfect.
My friends roared with laughter. They thought I was drunk and joking. "You've had too much to drink, man. That's Ava Stone, the movie star. No way she's your girlfriend!"
The laughter grated on my ears. The alcohol and the poster made the world feel blurry and unreal. I didn't bother explaining. I just tipped my head back and drained my glass. The burn of the liquor was a welcome distraction, a mix of sorrow and resignation.
As I lowered my head, the door to our private room opened.
Even with the baseball cap pulled low, the sunglasses, and the mask, I recognized Ava instantly.
She gave a small nod to the stunned room, a silent greeting, and then pulled up a chair, sitting down beside me. With everyone but me, she had this natural, icy aloofness.
"What are you doing here?" My voice was polite but distant, creating a chasm between us.
She frowned, but her tone was gentle. "I have some free time. I wanted to spend it with you."
My face remained cold. "You don't have to do this. We're breaking up."
"I don't agree to the breakup," she said, taking a deep breath. "You're just jealous. You want us to go public, right? Fine. I'll give you what you want."
She stood up, picked up my glass, and her voice regained its usual confident, almost arrogant, tone. "Hello, everyone. I'm Liam's girlfriend."
"We've had to keep our relationship quiet because of my work. I hope you can understand."
As my friends stared in disbelief, she raised the glass to her lips. Before it could touch them, I snatched it from her hand.
"That's enough, Ava."
"We're already broken up."
The glass hit the table with a thud, rolled twice, and came to a stop.
Ignoring the tears welling in her eyes, I turned and walked out.
Drunk and stumbling, I ran out into the dark street. The night, thick with the smell of alcohol, seemed to swallow me whole. My thoughts were a mess. I kept seeing Ava, glass in hand, and the tightness in my chest returned, making it hard to breathe.
Ava never drank. She hated the taste of alcohol.
But I remembered seeing a video, leaked by the paparazzi. She was drunk, leaning heavily against Ethan Reed, raising her glass to a table of producers. "Please, just give Ethan a chance," she was slurring. "He'll do a great job."
For Ethan, she, who never touched a drop, had downed three straight shots of hard liquor. She ended the night passed out in his arms.
That night was my birthday. I waited for her all night, a cake sitting uneaten on the table. She never came home.
She called later, her excuse ready. "It was the wrap party for the new movie. All the producers and directors were there. I couldn't get away. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
But Ava, I don't need you to make it up to me anymore.
The moment I saw her in Ethan's arms, five years of love shattered. My heart felt like it had turned to ash.
Ava chased after me. "Liam, don't be angry. It's just a professional relationship, I swear..." she pleaded, her voice carrying to my friends who had followed us out.
I just replied flatly, "I'm not angry. It has nothing to do with me anymore."
"Stop denying it, Liam. You're only doing this because you're jealous of Ethan."
"I've explained it a thousand times, those rumors are part of my job. If it bothers you that much, I'll go clear things up right now. Just please, don't break up with me."
She kept talking, always using her career as an excuse. She would never admit that her heart had ever strayed.
Suddenly, I found her desperate, lie-filled pleading utterly pathetic.
I shook her hand off, hailed a cab, and left without looking back.
I had just gotten home when I received a termination notice from my company's HR.
"Liam, it was a decision from the top. There was nothing I could do." The HR rep sounded apologetic. "I heard someone's pulling strings to get you out. Did you piss someone off?"
I've always been an easy-going person. I don't make enemies. But if the company was going to fire me over something like this, so be it. I didn't rely on that paycheck anyway.
As soon as I hung up, an unknown number called.
I answered. A man's voice sneered, "How does it feel to be fired, Liam?"
I recognized it immediately.
Ethan Reed.
So, he was the one behind this.
My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. A wave of pain and hatred washed over me.
"You're a worthless leech who can't even hold down a minimum wage job. What right do you have to be with Ava? I suggest you crawl back into whatever hole you came from."
"As long as I'm around, you'll never find another job in this city. I guarantee it. Hahaha."
His laugh was manic, a stark contrast to the gentle, sophisticated image he projected on screen. He sounded like a demon from hell.
Just like he did in middle school.
No matter what mask he wore, he was still disgusting.
I let out a cold snort, cutting off his grating laughter. "Is that so? Then you're going to lose."
This was a bet Ethan was destined to lose, spectacularly.
For me, a nine-to-five job was just a way to pass the time. It didn't matter if I had one or not.
Back in college, I wrote a novel under a pseudonym. A famous director bought the film rights, and that was the start of my screenwriting career.
Several of the biggest hit TV shows in recent years were from my pen. At my request, my real name was always kept hidden, replaced by the pen name 'Serenity.'
Other than a few top directors I worked with, no one knew my true identity.
Not even Ava.
The next day, I went to the office to finalize my departure. When I got to my desk, it was empty. All my personal belongings were gone.
Then I saw them, piled in the trash can next to my desk.
I didn't need to guess who did it.
A cold smile touched my lips. I grabbed a nearby vase and strode toward the director's office.
Ignoring the shocked gasps of my colleagues, I kicked the door open and smashed the vase at the director's feet.
He slammed his hands on his desk and shot to his feet, enraged. "Liam, don't push it!"
"If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for crossing Ethan Reed. He made it clear he doesn't want to see you here. Our hands are tied."
The company had just signed Ethan as the face of their new product. Of course, they wouldn't risk offending him over a low-level employee like me.
I didn't bother arguing. It was their loss. Smashing the vase had vented most of my anger.
As I turned to leave, the director's secretary rushed in. "Sir, Ava Stone's agent just called. She's interested in being the spokesperson for the new product, but she has one condition..."
The secretary gave me a complicated look.
The director's eyes lit up. "Whatever it is, we'll meet it. At any cost." An opportunity to work with a star of Ava's caliber was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
"Her only condition," the secretary said, her voice barely a whisper, "is that her boyfriend, Liam, be put in charge of her entire endorsement campaign."
The room fell silent. Everyone stared.
Even I was momentarily stunned.
When we first got together, Ava had been adamant about keeping our relationship a secret. We were never to be seen together in public.
In five years, we were never seen together. My family, my friends, no one knew she existed. She never came to any of my social gatherings.
Last year, when my grandmother was dying, her last wish was to meet my girlfriend. I called Ava, crying, begging her to come, just for a few minutes. Even though she could hear the sobs in my voice, she hesitated for only a second before refusing. "Liam, you know my situation. I can't..."
After that, I never asked again.
I never thought she would use her influence, as my girlfriend, to help me with my job.
But I didn't need it anymore.
Ava's star power dwarfed Ethan's. Hearing her condition, the director's sycophantic smile returned. "Liam, my boy! Why didn't you tell me you had this connection?"
"What happened before was my mistake. Don't hold it against me. How about this? I'll make you the project lead for this campaign, effective immediately. And a triple bonus at the end of the year."
I just looked at him, my face a mask of indifference, and threw my ID badge on his desk. "Sorry. I quit."
I turned and walked away, leaving a room full of stunned colleagues in my wake.
The main office was already buzzing. As soon as I stepped out, my coworkers swarmed me.
"Dude, Liam, you've been holding out on us! Ava Stone is your girlfriend?"
"She just updated her social media! She cleared up the rumors with Ethan Reed and announced she's in a relationship with you! And... she's on her way here, in a wedding dress, to propose!"
Before I could process what they were saying, someone shoved a phone into my hand.
On the screen, Ava was dressed in a stunning white gown, her makeup elegant and cool. She stared into the camera, her deep eyes seeming to pierce through the screen and lock with mine.
"Liam," she said, her voice clear and steady. "Are you ready to marry me?"
Half an hour ago, Ava had posted a clarification. She revealed our five-year secret relationship. She posted candid photos of me cooking, a few snapshots from our life together. In a long, heartfelt caption, she explained that the 'relationship' with Ethan was just a joke, the result of a lost bet.
She said she had only ever had one boyfriend.
Me.
My breath caught in my throat. My heart was a tangled mess of emotions.
Ethan had immediately commented on her post: "Big sis Ava is a woman of her word! It was all a misunderstanding. Hope you're not mad, bro-in-law!"
The comments section exploded. Fans were furious, accusing Ava of toying with their emotions. Many still insisted that she and Ethan were a better match. Only a few offered their congratulations.
I didn't know how Ava had convinced Ethan to play along with this charade, but while the rest of the world was swooning, I was painfully sober.
I had once dreamed of this day, of being able to hold her hand in public, to be acknowledged.
But now, all I felt was a hollow emptiness, the quiet calm that follows a storm of disappointment.
Within minutes, the story of a top actress proposing to her civilian boyfriend went viral, hitting number one on every trending list.
Reporters and bloggers started live-streaming, following Ava as she, holding a bouquet, made her way to my office. Her fans had already gathered outside, clearing a path for her.
The live stream crashed from the sheer volume of viewers.
Before I could fully grasp the situation, a roar of excitement came from outside.
Ava was here.
She pushed open the doors, breathless, a bouquet in her arms. Her eyes found mine across the crowded room, and a smile touched her lips.
The wedding dress was beautiful, accentuating her every curve. Even with her hair slightly disheveled and her face beaded with sweat, she was breathtaking.
The media scrum followed her in. In an instant, every camera, every eye in the room was on me.
Ava walked slowly toward me, her eyes shining like stars. She held out the flowers. "Liam," she asked softly, "will you marry me?"
Despite her calm demeanor, I could hear the slight tremor in her voice.
The room erupted. Everyone was looking at me with envy.
"Wow, being proposed to by a huge star in public... he's so lucky."
"He's just a regular guy. What did he do to deserve her?"
As the whispers of envy swirled around me, my mind raced through the past five years. All the intense love I once felt had been slowly eroded by one disappointment after another.
In that moment, I was terrifyingly clear-headed.
Sensing my hesitation, people started clapping and chanting, "Say yes! Say yes!"
But under the expectant gaze of the entire nation, I calmly shook my head.
"I'm sorry. I won't."

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