Spencer's POV
Dahlia Prescott texted me on WhatsApp.
[I’m coming home for dinner tonight.]
Right after that, she sent a photo of the Longines watch I’d always wanted but never received.
Then a voice message came through.
“Done throwing your tantrum? If you’re done, cook lobster tail for me tonight.”
She paused, then added, “Gideon’s coming too, so make extra.”
The message cut off.
I stared at her half-packed suitcases sitting in the living room and let out a quiet laugh.
I then snapped a picture and sent it to her.
[Dahlia. Did you lose your memory? We already broke up.]
——
Yet, she didn’t respond.
Even so, I didn’t bother waiting. I just kept packing.
The room gradually dimmed as the sun went down, and before I reached for the light switch, noises echoed from the entryway. The front door swung open from the outside, followed by a burst of laughter.
“See? I told you you’re lucky. A few sweet words, and Spencer cooks for you. You sulk for a couple of days, and he still spoils you. If you were my girlfriend, I’d kick you to the curb.” Gideon Price tugged on Dahlia’s hair.
She let out an exaggerated "ow," then grabbed his hand, her voice dripping with affection. “Who else but me could put up with your young-master attitude? You’re the one who said you wanted lobster tail. You’d better thank Spencer later for cooking for you. If you don’t, I swear I’ll smack your ass.”
She laughed and reached out to smack him first, the two of them flirting openly right in front of me.
If this had been before, I would’ve already charged over, demanding she keep her distance from him.
But now, I just stood in the living room watching them fool around, and finally said, out of place and flat, “Dahlia, did you see my messages?”
Only then did the two of them freeze. It was as if they had only just remembered I still existed.
Gideon nudged her with a grin, and she stepped back. She hit the living room light switch, and the moment the room lit up, her smile disappeared.
She hadn’t expected the stacks of boxes.
“What is this?” she asked.
Her face darkened immediately as she scanned the room.
“I told you to cook. Spencer, why are you packing your things?”
Annoyance flashed across her face. She glanced toward the kitchen, which was completely clean and untouched. No food, no scent of cooking. Not even a pan out of place. Her brows pinched together.
“Where’s dinner?”
She marched into the dining area and yanked open the fridge. Aside from a few bottles of drinks, it was empty. No lobster. Nothing.
She slammed the door shut.
“Spencer, did you not hear—”
But before she could lash out, Gideon cut her off. “Hey, talk nicely. If he didn’t cook, he must have a reason. Why are you throwing a fit?” He turned to me with a friendly smile. “Spencer, don’t be mad at her. She’s just spoiled. She was bragging earlier about how much you pamper her, saying it makes her feel like a queen.”
I watched him speak as if he owned the place, as if he were her real boyfriend. Then I met Dahlia’s eyes. She was avoiding my gaze, waiting for me to cave in like I always did.
It was almost funny.
Funny enough that I stopped packing, stood still, and said, “Dahlia. If I remember correctly...”
I looked right at her and continued, “We already broke up. And since we’ve broken up…”
I tapped one of the boxes with my toe. “Isn’t it about time your ex’s things stopped living in my home?”
