After Prison, My Ex Shoved Money in My Face Chapter 1

The day Chloe and I agreed to move to the same city, I never showed up.

She probably still can't figure out what happened.

I just went back to my hometown to pack, and suddenly I was gone, completely off the grid.

A few days later, I finally called Chloe.

The moment she picked up, her voice was sharp with accusation: "Leo, are you trying to ghost me?"

I glanced at the stark, cold walls around me and forced out words I didn't mean.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm heading overseas for a better life."

"Let's just… not contact each other anymore."

Five years later, I was running a small stall at a night market in a popular tourist spot, just trying to make ends meet.

I customized handmade leather goods for tourists and sold little wooden carvings I'd made myself.

One evening, a light rain started to fall. Ben, the guy at the stall next to mine, packed up his things and called out, "Leo, it's raining, aren't you going home?"

I shook my head, a bitter taste in my mouth.

I hadn't sold anything all day, and I just didn't want to go back to an empty apartment.

Ben tried to coax me. "Buddy, this isn't how you make money. You haven't eaten all day. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Just as he finished speaking, two people stopped in front of my stall—a couple.

"Hey, how much for this wallet?"

The man casually picked one up, examining it.

I instinctively lowered my gaze, wiped down the display, and eagerly introduced, "Basic cowhide is $20. For the vegetable-tanned leather, it's $30. If your girlfriend likes it, I can even throw in a handmade wooden carving. I made them all myself."

The man didn't even look at me. He just pointed to a classic design.

"Just this one. Forget the carving. I'm not interested in street vendor stuff."

The woman beside him held an umbrella over his head, her voice full of playful scolding.

"Only you would think to wander through a night market in the rain."

My hand, which was reaching for the leather, froze.

It had been a long time since I'd heard that voice, but I knew I'd never forget it. Not even if I lived a hundred years.

It was Chloe.

I sneaked a quick glance and finally saw her.

She was thinner, even more beautiful. The awkwardness of her student days was gone, replaced by a confident, polished air.

In that instant, my heart felt like a leaf ripped from its branch by a wild storm, spiraling aimlessly, utterly lost.

I mechanically grabbed my tools, burying my head to steady my racing thoughts, and started working on the leather edges.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe pull up a chair and sit down, her arm still raised, holding the umbrella for him.

I instantly remembered college, how she'd always wait for me downstairs at the library when it rained, always tilting the umbrella to cover me more.

But that favoritism, that special care, no longer belonged to me.

Now, she stood beside another man, sheltering him, her eyes completely focused on him.

"Wait, don't bother."

The man suddenly tossed the wallet back onto the stall, a frown on his face.

My thoughts snapped back to reality. I asked, flustered, "Miss, is it... is it not the style you like?"

He shook his head, his voice laced with disdain. "The edges of this leather are so rough, and there are scratches. How can you even run a stall with workmanship like this?"

That's when I noticed my own rough hands.

Years of woodworking and handling leather had left my fingers and the web between my thumb and forefinger covered in calluses and tiny scars.

In that moment, my face burned, and my chest tightened with shame.

Chloe, beside him, suddenly chuckled and patted his shoulder, pulling her wallet from her bag.

"Forget it. Just take the money. Let's go."

She finally looked at me.

That look made her hand, mid-reach for cash, freeze.

I watched her expression slowly turn rigid, even the muscles in her face subtly twitching.

Those eyes, once so gentle and captivating, slowly filled with a complex mix of emotions—shock, confusion, and finally, pure hatred.

The man pulled out a tissue and wiped his hands, then turned to her. "What's wrong? You know him?"

She suddenly laughed.

She pulled out a few extra bills from her wallet and threw them all at me.

"No, I don't. He just looks pathetic."

"Consider it charity for a beggar. Let's go."

Those two sentences pierced me like sharp hooks, digging deeper and deeper into my heart.

She recognized me.

Right when I was at my lowest.