The Comments Said He Loved Me But He Never Did Chapter 04
My phone screen was blowing up. Zane’s name flashed across my screen over and over again.
The ringing was so fast and hard, it felt like it was going to ring off the hook.
I stood outside the Vertex Entertainment building, clutching my phone.
The early autumn wind cut through me like a knife, cold and sharp. It blew away eight years of warmth.
The breakup text I’d just sent to Zane sat in our chat. Short. Final.
I stared at his name still flashing on the screen. But my fingers didn’t feel the usual panic or heartache anymore. All I felt was a numb, hollow calm.
Back in the day, even a tiny little fight would send me into a spiral. I’d text him back in seconds. I’d crawl back to him and beg.
But now? I just watched in silence. I just let it ring and ring.
Twitter was an absolute dumpster fire. Exploding trending topics stacked on top of each other, every single one with a bright red “exploding” icon next to it.
#ZaneSterlingEdenMercerRelationshipConfirmed
#AListerHidesRelationshipForEightYears
#EdenMercerResigns
The trending topics stacked higher and higher, taking over the entire trending list. Fans, casual readers, online bystanders—everyone was losing their minds.
I casually clicked into the comments. Just minutes ago, the live reaction posts had been unanimously riding for Zane, begging me to forgive him. Now they were completely lost their grip.
The ride-or-die fans were still stubbornly trying to control the narrative, repeating the same old lines, desperate to turn things around.
[Eden is just throwing a tantrum! The A-lister is just insecure. He’s just trying to make his girlfriend jealous!]
[Please don’t break up! Eight years doesn’t just disappear overnight. It’s just a little fight!]
[Bianca is just a pawn in his game! He’s only ever had eyes for Eden!]
But more casual fans had already figured out what was really going on. The comments had completely flipped.
[Hidden for eight years and still no public announcement? She’s been doing all the giving. That’s just sad.]
[I always knew something was off about Zane. Fake relationships left and right, and she had to clean up every single mess. What a complete dirtbag.]
[A top manager resigns and makes a public breakup announcement. That’s someone who’s finally accumulated enough disappointment and walked away for good.]
I read the last comment and smiled. Just barely.
Someone finally got it. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was really leaving.
The buzzing finally stopped. Then, a second later, a text popped up. Zane.
Just a few short words. They carried an aggression and panic I had never seen in him before.
“Eden, try breaking up with me. I dare you.”
Back in the day, if I had seen him this aggressive, I definitely would’ve folded like a cheap suit, scared I’d set him off. I would’ve walked on eggshells and begged him to forgive me.
Out of habit, I raised my hand. My finger hovered over the keyboard.
Then, in an instant, the memories came flooding back.
The good script I’d forced myself to push through for—severe heartburn and stress-induced ulcers from networking over drinks, smiling at producers who treated me like dirt—and he tossed it like yesterday’s news. The anniversary dinner where every word out of his mouth was a punch to the gut. His birthday party where he shoved me out of my seat with that cold look on his face. The phone call where I heard Bianca’s soft moans in the background and he snapped at me like I was the one in the wrong.
Eight years of loving him. Eight years of giving in. And all I got in return was him pushing harder and taking more—give him an inch and he took a mile, an soul-sucking black hole.
I pulled my hand back. Locked the screen without a second thought. Stuffed my phone in my bag.
I cut him off cold turkey.
I took a car back to The Pines at Westwood, the apartment I’d lived in for five years. Every corner of that place was mine, personally taken care of by me. And every corner also showed traces I had left for him.
More than half the shoe rack was filled with his sneakers. The closet was filled with his clothes. His favorite ingredients were always in the fridge. But he’d never really appreciated any of it.
I had just walked in and changed into my shoes when hammering on my door started on my door. Loud. Fast. Hard. Like he was trying to break it down.
I didn’t even have to guess who it was.
I stood in the entryway and listened quietly to every sound from outside. I had no intention of opening the door.
“Eden! Open the door!”
His voice came through the door panel, rough and barely restrained, with a trace of barely noticeable panic underneath. “I know you’re in there!”
I leaned against the cold wall and said, cold and flat, “Zane, I already resigned. We broke up. We’re done. There’s nothing left for you here.”
The pounding stopped abruptly.
Two seconds passed. Then his voice came again, so deep it was scary. And still carrying that old arrogance.
“Done? Eden, who said you could break up with me?”
I kept my voice quiet and steady.
“Eight years. I stood by you when you were no one. I watched you become a top-tier A-lister. I accommodated you. I tolerated you. I gave in to you. I took care of you. I held your hand and I begged for you. So tell me. Why don’t I get to be the one to end it?”
“Those rumors were all fake! I never had anything with Bianca!”
His voice suddenly pitched higher, faster. A desperate, flustered excuse. “I was just trying to make you jealous. I wanted you to care about me more!”
Same song, same dance. The same excuse.
I’d heard it for a full three years. And every single time before now, I ate it up every single time. I’d folded. I’d compromised myself. I’d told myself it was fine.
But now? It just sounded a joke. A complete circus.
I spoke slowly. Every word clear.
“Zane. I’m tired. Your games. Your moods. Your insecurities. I’m not signing up for them anymore.”
The silence was deafening between us through the door. So quiet I could hear both of us breathing.
After a long time, finally, his voice dropped. All the anger drained out of it. What was left sounded stiff and small, like a kid who just got grounded.
“So you’re really leaving?”
“Yes,” I said without missing a beat. “I’m done coddling you. Figure it out yourself now. Properly.”
He seemed to freeze on the other side of that door. I could picture it. The shock. The confusion. The emptiness.
For the first time in eight years, I didn’t follow his lead. I didn’t bend over backward for him. For the first time, I pushed him away and meant it.
And for the first time, he finally started to panic.
