Regret Is Pointless, Ex-Boyfriend

At a college reunion party, someone suggested playing a game of "Who Knows Who Best?" I drew my exboyfriend, Carter Evans.

I looked at the twentyone questions on the slip of paper and answered them one by one. His favorite food. His favorite music. His favorite color.

The age of his first sexual encounter. ...... Then, someone in the crowd started teasing: "Sera, how do you know Carter so well?

Don't tell me you even know his cock size." I kept my face completely expressionless and said: "8.5 inches." The room instantly erupted: "Seriously? Carter is that blessed?

Let me see!" "Wait, didn't Sera and Carter date before?" "But isn't the girl Carter likes Mia Hayes?" Carter took a sip of his beer, his voice completely flat. "Stop talking nonsense, guys.

Sera and I are just childhood neighbors.

We grew up together, so she just knows me well." I smiled and chimed in, "Yeah, we're just neighbors." Turns out, time really does heal all wounds.

When I said those words, I realized I truly did view him as nothing more than a nextdoor neighbor. Halfway through the party, the gossip didn't stop.

Someone smiled and asked, "Sera, you've been in London for the past two years, so you probably don't know yet—Carter and Mia are officially dating now." Another girl chimed in: "Oh yeah, they're so clingy.

I literally saw Mia feeding Carter ice cream on campus." Mia sat right next to Carter, her cheeks flushing a light pink. "Stop teasing us, guys." Despite her words, she leaned her head onto Carter's shoulder.

The other girl laughed: "No normal friends are that intimate. They're definitely friends with benefits." Carter didn't deny it.

Instead, his hand gently tightened around Mia's waist. I lowered my eyes, my heart as still as dead water.

Two years ago, I would have stayed up all night crying just because they had lunch together.

I would have scrolled through my Snapchat chat history with Carter over and over, desperately trying to figure out why he picked her up in person, why he protected her in front of everyone, yet refused to ever admit I was his girlfriend.

Now, looking back, it all felt so pathetic. Mia suddenly stood up, holding a glass of wine, and walked over to me. "Sera, about the research fellowship back then...

I really didn't mean to steal your spot..." I stared at the silver ring on her ring finger, and my mind suddenly flashed back to the summer after we took our SATs.

Carter had taken me to a silver workshop. He spent hours hunching over the table, his knuckles rubbed raw. I asked him what he was making.

He said they were promise rings. "Who wants to wear a promise ring with you?" "Fine, suit yourself." Even though he said that, once he finished, he grabbed my hand and slid one of the rings onto my finger.

It was a perfect fit. That was the first time he had ever actively held my hand, and the first time he admitted we were together.

Later, during our very last fight, I ripped the ring off and threw it at him. I thought he would throw it away, or at least keep it hidden.

I never expected him to hand it over to Mia. The people around us started chanting. "Drink up, Sera!

Mia is offering you a toast." "Don't be so rude." I picked up my glass of juice and lightly clinked it against hers. "I don't drink." The smile on Mia's face faded slightly. "Sera is still the same as always." She lowered her eyes and added, "Always such a buzzkill." Someone immediately burst out laughing.

Right after, a shot glass was slammed heavily in front of me. "Here, let's toast to the ultimate simp." The guy had a booming voice. "Simping for five years, only to end up with absolutely nothing, and even ended up serving his golden girl on a silver platter!" "Sera Miller, you really were a dedicated doormat from start to finish!" The next second, Carter raised his glass and clinked it with the guy's. "Well said." The glasses clinked with a crisp, mocking sound.

Watching that scene, I suddenly remembered our last fight before I left. I had asked him, "Carter, I just want you to acknowledge me in front of everyone.

Is that really too much to ask?" He replied, "It's pointless." Looking back now, those answers I cried over and constantly obsessed about were indeed completely pointless.

I just didn't get it back then. I had to hit rock bottom before I was willing to turn back. As the party wrapped up, it was pouring rain outside.

Carter stood at the bottom of the steps. "I'll drive you back to your dorm." "No thanks." "Sera." His voice turned heavy. "You ran away to Europe for two years out of spite.

What are you still running from? Are you afraid you can't keep up the act anymore?" I remained expressionless and raised my hand to hail an Uber.

The window slowly rolled up, blocking his familiar face behind the sheet of rain. He didn't chase after me. Just like all those years in the past.

He would only stand there, waiting for me to crawl back on my own. But this time, I wouldn't.

At eleven that night, a sudden bout of acute gastroenteritis hit me like a truck. I gritted my teeth and drove myself to the ER.

As the nurse inserted the IV needle into the back of my hand, I instinctively closed my eyes. In my daze, I felt like I was back in the high school clinic at seventeen.

A hand had covered my eyes back then. "If you don't look, it won't hurt." I opened my eyes, and to my shock, I actually saw Carter.

He was standing not far away, his expression tense. I instinctively called out his name: "Carter." The next second, my voice was drowned out. "Carter, I'm fine.

I'm just a little cold." Mia was sitting in a chair nearby, her voice soft and fragile.

Carter immediately took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Put this on first." He leaned down to adjust her collar, his movements natural and practiced.

I snapped back to reality. The boy standing there was no longer the seventeenyearold Carter who covered my eyes because he was afraid I'd feel pain.

My throat felt incredibly dry and bitter, like a pill I couldn't swallow or spit out. "What are you doing here?" Carter's gaze swept over to me casually, his brow furrowing.

I didn't answer. He looked at my IV bag, then at my bloodless, pale face. "Are you sick?

Or is this another one of your attentiongrabbing stunts?" I found it hilarious. "Why else would I be at the hospital?" I was no longer the Sera Miller who would take icecold showers in the dead of winter just to give herself a raging fever so he would come take care of her. "Carter," Mia called out softly from behind him. "I'm cold." His eyes lingered on my face for a split second before he turned around.

That split second felt like an illusion. As he brushed past me, a faint scent of sandalwood drifted by. Two years ago, this was my absolute favorite scent.

Now, it just felt completely foreign.

After Carter helped Mia through her checkup, he walked back over to me. "Let me borrow your umbrella." "Why should I?" He looked up at me, his face tight with impatience. "Mia has a cold.

She can't get wet. She needs this umbrella more than you do." Carter stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly snatched the umbrella straight out of my hand.

He pulled so hard that a tiny bead of blood welled up where my IV needle had just been pulled. He opened the umbrella and shielded Mia as they walked into the pouring rain.

I watched his retreating back grow smaller and smaller. Always like this. He was always so ruthless. It was the exact same during our last fight.

That day, the lab was voting on the prestigious research exchange spot. The final, deciding vote lay in Carter's hands. He voted for Mia.

I waited until everyone had left before I finally asked him, "Why?" "You know how long I prepared for this!

You know my academic records are way better than hers!" Carter just laughed. "Sera, you're being ridiculous.

The decision is mine to make, not yours." I fought back my tears. "Either we go public right now, or we break up.

Choose one." Carter looked at me as if I were a hysterical stranger. "If you want to trap yourself in this dramatic relationship loop, that's on you." "Don't act like you're some tragic victim." That night, Mia boarded a flight to London.

And I received a phone call saying my mother was in critical condition. I dialed Carter's number over and over. Fifty calls, all ignored.

When it finally went through, Mia's voice answered. She asked softly, "Sera, is something wrong?" I clutched my phone, my entire body turning icecold.

Over the receiver, I heard the faint rustle of fabric, followed by Carter's low, raspy voice. "Who is it?" "It's Sera." "Just hang up." The call went dead.

That week, I lost my mother, and I completely lost Carter. The sound of the rain snapped me out of my memories.

The moment I walked out of the hospital clinic, I saw Carter holding a newly bought umbrella. "Get in the car." "You just got an IV. You look like a ghost.

Why are you still being so stubborn?" I didn't budge. "Are you still throwing a tantrum over that research spot?

I voted for her because she needed that opportunity more than you did." "Her parents passed away when she was a kid. She has to work multiple jobs just to afford tuition.

You, at least, still have your mom.

And you have me." I stared at him and asked quietly, "So, wanting my boyfriend to stand by my side when it doesn't even violate any ethical rules—is that really so wrong?" Carter let out a scoff. "You always take emotions way too seriously." "And you always treat my emotions like they're worth absolutely nothing." "Sera, it's pointless." Those three words again.

I suddenly didn't want to fight anymore. "Give me back the silver bracelet my mom gave you." My mother had gifted it to him when she first found out we were dating.

Carter had worn it for years. I used to think it was proof that he accepted me, proof of our relationship. Carter's expression darkened. "What?

You really want to draw a line between us?" I didn't say a word. Carter yanked the bracelet off his wrist.

The next second, he hurled it violently at me. "Sera, are you ever going to stop?!" The metal bracelet slammed hard against my collarbone, knocking the breath out of me.

Carter turned and stormed off. I knelt in the rain, picking up the scattered pieces of the bracelet one by one. The rain washed over the muddy ground.

It felt as though even the very last bit of warmth my mother had left me was being washed away.

The next day, I went to the lab. Before going abroad, I had left a logbook in my locker.

It was filled with my research data, failed experiment logs, and formulas that Carter had personally corrected for me.

When I pushed the door open, Carter was leaning over, watching Mia handle a test tube. "The temperature isn't high enough.

Try again." "Why are you still so clumsy, Mia?" His tone was incredibly patient and warm. I walked over to my locker and pulled it open.

It was completely empty. "Looking for this?" Mia picked up the logbook from her desk. "Give it back." She flipped through a couple of pages, her tone dripping with innocence. "I joined the lab late and was struggling to keep up, so Carter let me use this." My data was covered in messy red ink scribbles, and several pages had been torn right in half. "What right do you have to touch my research?" I reached out to grab it.

Mia took a step back, bumping straight into Carter's chest. Carter held her shoulders, his forehead creased in irritation. "You're scaring her.

You've already gone to Europe, so you don't even need this anymore.

Don't be so petty." I looked at him. "You gave my personal property to someone else without even asking for my permission?" "Carter, do you honestly think that just because Mia wants something, I am obligated to hand it over?" My chest felt incredibly tight.

He didn't say a word. His silence was my answer. I snatched the logbook from her hands and began tearing the pages out, one by one.

During my first six months in the lab, I knew absolutely nothing. I used to follow him around like a lost puppy with this very notebook, asking endless questions.

He always grumbled about how dumb I was, but he would still take it and correct it from start to finish. But now, keeping it was completely meaningless.

Carter's face warped with anger. "What the hell are you doing?" "It's my stuff.

I have every right to decide what to do with it." I tore the very last page in half and threw the scraps into the trash can.

Mia's eyes immediately welled with tears. "Carter, did I do something wrong?" "This has nothing to do with you," Carter said, his voice turning icecold as he glared at me. "You used to take Plan B four times a week without uttering a single complaint.

What are you acting so high and mighty for now?" I froze, forcing my tears back with sheer willpower, and walked out without looking back.

That night, a thread shot straight to the top of the university's anonymous forum. [The Story of a Desperate Simp Who Tried to Force Herself on a Guy for Five Years but Remained a Side Chick] The post didn't name me directly, but it listed my major and year with pinpoint accuracy.

The poster wrote with pure malice: [This girl has been throwing herself at the guy since high school, even following him to the same college.

She actually convinced herself she was his actual girlfriend.] The comments section was filled with mockery. [Five years and she couldn't even get him to make it official?

Girl needs to find a new guy to simp for.] [The guy is the real victim here, having to deal with a stalker like her.] Soon, Carter's frat bro, Zach, left a comment with a smirking emoji. [If you know, you know.] Carter didn't reply, but he liked Zach's comment.

My fingers turned cold as ice as I stared at the screen. I tracked down the IP address of the account. It was Mia. I posted the screenshots of the IP tracker.

The next second, the thread was deleted. I tried posting it again, but it was deleted instantly. I marched straight to Carter with my phone. "Did you delete my posts?

Why?" "She's preparing for her grad school applications right now.

Your posts will ruin her reputation and affect her interviews." "Besides, I already made her take down her original post.

No one will even remember this in a few days." "What about my reputation?

What about people gossiping about me, cornering me in the restrooms, and taping hateful notes to my dorm room door?

None of that matters to you?" Carter's eyes flickered slightly, but his expression quickly hardened back into indifference. "No one actually hurt you, Sera.

Don't make such a dramatic scene." Carter turned and walked away with Mia, whispering softly to soothe her: "Don't worry, I'm here." He had never said those words to me.

Not when I was being publicly humiliated, not when I lost my mother, not when I lost my home, and not when I lost him. He had never said it.

Standing there, I finally realized something. It wasn't that I had never won. It was that Carter had never once chosen to stand by my side.

The day before the graduation gala, Carter and I were assigned as cohosts.

Right before the show started, Carter came backstage to find me. "We need to talk." I didn't even look up. "I have nothing to say to you." Carter suddenly grabbed my wrist and dragged me into an empty classroom nearby. "Carter!

What the hell are you doing?" The sound of the door locking echoed through the room.

I rattled the doorknob violently, but it wouldn't budge. "I'll let you out once the gala is over." "Mia has wanted to stand on that stage since she was a kid.

I promised her I'd make her dream come true." "You're already the best host in the department.

Missing one show won't kill you." A suffocating tightness gripped my chest. "To you, everything that matters to me is just some trivial joke!" I pounded my fists against the door. "The research fellowship was trivial, going public was trivial, me being cyberbullied and having water poured on me was trivial!" He didn't reply.

Before he walked away, he only muttered a low sentence: "Stop making a scene." His footsteps faded away. I stood alone in the dark classroom as the opening music swelled outside.

A few minutes later, Mia's sweet, cheerful voice echoed through the speakers, followed by Carter's deep, warm tone. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

I slid down against the locked door and let my tears fall in silence. I had spent years waiting. Waiting for Carter to hold my hand and walk out in front of everyone.

Waiting for him to say, "This is my girlfriend, Sera Miller." But all I got was Mia. From beginning to end, everyone knew they were more intimate than any real couple.

The gala finally ended, and the door was unlocked. Carter stood outside, holding a bouquet of flowers.

His eyes lingered on my swollen, red eyes. "Stop crying." I walked right past him. Carter grabbed my arm, looking as if he wanted to say something, but his phone rang.

Caller ID: Mia. Without a single second of hesitation, he let go of my arm. "Hey?" His face fell instantly. "Don't cry.

I'm coming right now." Hanging up, he looked back at me. "She's really upset." "I've already requested time off. Your mom's birthday is in a few days.

I'll go back with you to celebrate, and we can finally go public." "Can we please stop fighting now?" My fingers trembled slightly. I had waited four long years for those words.

I had waited until I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, and only then did they finally come.

But hearing them now just felt incredibly pathetic. "Do you seriously still think I went to Europe just to throw a tantrum?" An irritated look flashed across Carter's face. "What else would it be?" I said quietly: "Forget it.

My mom doesn't need you to celebrate her birthday anymore." He was finally pushed over the edge, his voice rising sharply. "You were the one who chose to go abroad!

You were the one who disappeared and pushed me away! Why are you playing the victim now?" "Sera, do you even have a heart?!" His phone rang again.

This time, he didn't even look at me. He turned and ran. "Mia, I'm almost there." That familiar, intimate nickname jabbed lightly into my heart. But it didn't hurt anymore.

After my thesis defense, I packed my bags and decided to move to the North. While waiting at the airport, I opened the university forum and uploaded our photos one by one.

From seventeen to twentytwo. From high school uniforms to graduation gowns.

The title was just one sentence: [About Carter and me.] Then, I sent the security footage of Carter locking me in the classroom, along with evidence of him enabling the cyberbullying, straight to the Academic Dean.

I received a Snapchat message from Carter: [Where are you? I'm outside your apartment.] I turned off my phone and boarded the plane.