Allergic to You Chapter 1

The divorce from my ex-husband six years ago was the single most humiliating chapter of my life.

He’d lost his mind back then, spewing the vilest curses, swearing I’d never find happiness.

I was shaking with rage. That same day, I bought a one-way ticket and fled the country.

It wasn't until a high school reunion last week that I set foot in this city again.

During dinner, someone enthusiastically tried to pour me a glass of wine. But Daniel, my ex, who was sitting right next to me, shot his hand out to block the bottle.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low but shockingly firm. “She’s allergic to alcohol.”

* * *

The moment he said it, the lively chatter in our private dining room died, replaced by a thick, awkward silence.

Every eye in the room darted between me and Daniel. After all, our breakup had been a spectacular train wreck.

Six years ago, Daniel had an affair with my best friend, Jessica. He claimed he didn't want to hurt either of us and actually suggested the three of us could learn to coexist peacefully. The idea was so warped it shattered my reality. After a massive fight, I left the country in a storm of fury.

And I hadn't been back until today.

Everyone knew the story, which is why they’d been carefully avoiding any sensitive topics during the initial pleasantries. But here was Daniel, practically begging for attention.

After vetoing the wine, he took it upon himself to stand up and fill my glass with iced tea.

Mike, one of our old friends, shot him a disapproving look but didn’t say anything when I remained silent. He just forced a smile and tried to smooth things over.

“No worries, no worries! If Sophie can’t drink, she can’t drink. A toast with tea is just as good.”

“Yeah, totally,” others chimed in, desperate to move past the cringeworthy moment. A reunion was a rare thing, and no one wanted our personal drama to ruin it.

I didn’t want to make a scene either. I gracefully raised my glass of tea and took a sip. As I set it down, I caught a flicker of a smile in Daniel's eyes, as if my simple act of drinking the tea he poured meant something more.

I refused to overthink it and calmly looked away.

Just then, the waiters began bringing in the food. I was surprised to see they were all my favorite dishes. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: Daniel had been the one to place the order.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was leaning back in his chair, a smug, expectant look on his face, as if he’d been waiting for me to notice his grand gesture.

It all clicked into place. Every single thing he’d done tonight was a calculated move to get close to me.

And honestly? It was making my skin crawl.

A good ex is a dead ex. They should vanish from your world completely, not pop up trying to play the knight in shining armor. Especially not when, less than a month after I left the country, Daniel had married Jessica. As far as I knew, they were still very much together.

A married man making repeated, suggestive moves on his ex-wife?

That wasn’t just inappropriate. It was disgusting.

Trying to avoid any more drama, I coldly flagged down a waiter and ordered an orange juice. For the rest of the night, whenever a toast was made, I drank that, letting the iced tea Daniel had poured for me grow warm and forgotten.

I thought my message was loud and clear.

But then, Daniel suddenly reached across the table with his chopsticks and expertly placed a piece of brisket on my plate.

“You’ve gotten so thin,” he said, his tone sickeningly intimate. “You must not have been eating well over there.”

I stared at the meat in my bowl as if it were something rotten, unable to bring myself to touch it. But Daniel, acting completely oblivious, proceeded to serve me a little of everything, piling my plate high until it was a small mountain of food.

Now, everyone was staring.