Clinical Trial for a Broken Heart Chapter 2

I went home and bought a six-pack.

As I nursed a beer, I replayed every moment with Ethan. We met on a rainy day. He was working part-time at a campus coffee shop. My payment app crashed, and he just paid for my latte himself. He was wearing the standard black employee polo, but on his tall frame, it looked good. He glanced at me, his dark hair falling over his forehead, and then immediately looked away as if I’d burned him.

“It’s still pouring out there,” he’d said. “You can take my umbrella.”

“What about you?” I’d asked.

He kept his eyes down. “It’ll stop soon.”

I spent the next week hanging out at that coffee shop until I finally caught his shift again. I gave him back the umbrella and the money for the coffee. Just as I was about to leave, the sky opened up again. I turned around, and he was standing there, holding the umbrella, having taken off his thick glasses. Without them, his eyes were stunning—big and gentle, like a deer’s.

He walked me home. Watching his back disappear into the rain, I knew I was a goner.

After that, I, a connoisseur of shirtless men on the internet, deleted all my thirst-trap apps. I was going to get Ethan.

And I was so sure he liked me, too.

When I had cramps, he’d show up with ibuprofen and my favorite takeout. When I was in a bad mood, he’d take me to the movies or to a cat cafe. I thought we were a sure thing.

But the first time I confessed, he started pulling away. Rejecting my invitations, taking forever to text back.

I considered every possibility. Maybe he was aromantic. Maybe he had a crippling avoidance complex. Maybe, just maybe, he was a giant jerk.

But then I got a nasty cold, and he appeared at my door without a word, taking care of me until my fever broke…

I just didn’t get it. Why?

I took another swig of beer. The image of him running away made my chest ache. I didn’t believe his excuse. You deserve someone better. What a line. It was probably him who wanted someone better.

What an asshole.

With that thought, I picked up my phone, re-downloaded TikTok, and started scrolling through an endless stream of muscular men in very little clothing.

When I landed on a video from the weird “male mommy” niche, something in me snapped. I couldn’t resist leaving a comment.

「Dude, if you’re lactating, go to a hospital.」

「P.S. I’m a doctor.」

After that, I passed out.