Chapter 3: The Ex Returns, With Strings

That night, I rolled out my cart and started setting up like a pro. There were plenty of people out for an evening stroll, so I sold dozens of corn dogs in no time. I was so busy I barely touched the ground. The city lights glimmered. The air smelled like summer.

Then a pair of leather shoes stopped in front of me. I thought it was NightWolf42, so I didn’t even look up. “Hold on,” I said, hair sticking to my forehead. My hands were full.

The person said nothing, just stood there quietly. I could feel his gaze, heavy and familiar.

Something felt off. I looked up—and my hand slipped, sending a corn dog rolling to the ground. The moment froze. Grease splattered my sneakers.

The man in front of me was wearing a black trench coat, standing tall and straight. He hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen him—except now, he looked even more expensive. That coat alone probably cost more than my entire cart. The city’s neon reflected in his eyes. He looked almost unreal, like he’d stepped out of a movie.

Ethan picked up the corn dog, oil staining his fingers. He didn’t even flinch.

“Long time no see.” His voice was low, familiar, and it made my heart skip a beat.

I replied, “Yeah, long time no see.” I tried to sound casual, but my voice came out too soft.

After all those years, after everything, my childhood friend and I finally met again. It felt surreal, like a scene out of a movie I’d watched a thousand times in my head.

He’d just come back from England, and I was here selling corn dogs. Life had a funny way of doing that.

Ethan glanced at the sweat on my forehead and handed me a napkin. I didn’t take it. I wiped my brow with the back of my hand instead, stubborn as ever. Some things never change.

His hand paused, his gaze dropping to the fryer. He frowned. The smell of oil hung heavy.

His voice was tight. “So this is what you’re doing now?”

I was always sensitive to the slightest change in Ethan’s expression. Maybe because I’d heard too much mockery and scorn from him over the years. I knew what he’d say next—“After all these years, you’re still so unambitious.”

To dodge that harsh criticism, I beat him to it: “Don’t try to act close. Even for you, it’s three bucks a corn dog, or five for two.” I shot him a look. Go ahead, argue.

Even ex-boyfriends don’t get a discount. It’s hard enough making a living. I’d learned to stand my ground. At least when it came to business.

Ethan just stood there in silence, watching me sell food from behind the cart. Maybe the smell of oil and smoke was getting to him—he never stopped frowning. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but disdain—for my cart, and for me. Or maybe I was just imagining it, letting old wounds open up again.

He was tall and good-looking, and soon enough, a group of girls gathered around. I sold out faster than usual and packed up early. It was almost a relief to finally close the lid on the fryer.

Checking the time, I walked with Ethan to the curb. I dusted off my jeans and sat on a step. Ethan stayed standing, lips pressed together. Well, with a coat that expensive, I guess getting it dirty would be a pain.

Me sitting, him standing, we were quiet for a while. The city hummed around us, headlights flashing by.

“I adopted a little tabby cat. Her name’s Daisy. Want to see her?” His voice was soft. Almost shy.

I didn’t expect Ethan to be the one to break the silence. It threw me off. Just a little.

Back when we used to talk about the future, I’d count on my fingers—first save up enough for a down payment, then get a cute cat. I’d call her Daisy, because, well, Autumn and Daisy sounded right together. I’d imagined lazy Sundays, sunlight streaming in, Daisy curled up in my lap.

But Ethan always said someone as irresponsible as me didn’t deserve a cat. “You’re so hopeless, you can barely take care of yourself. Don’t make more trouble for me.” His words stuck with me. Sharp as ever.

To Ethan, I was trouble. Even the cat I wanted was trouble. If my mom hadn’t grabbed his hand before she died and asked him to look after me, he probably would’ve given up on me long ago. Only I kept running headfirst into a wall, never turning back, no matter how much it hurt. I guess I was stubborn like that.

“No thanks. Daisy’s a terrible name. And your girlfriend’s allergic to cats anyway, better not get one.” I turned him down. My voice was clipped. But my hands were shaking.

If I remembered right, Olivia once ended up in the hospital from feeding a stray cat. It was all over social media for a week. Everyone knew.

Ethan said, “I don’t have a girlfriend. And Daisy’s a great name.” He sounded almost offended. Like I’d insulted his cat.

He pulled out his phone. Our chat history was still stuck at last year’s breakup message from me. The screen glowed between us. Silent. Accusing.

“If you didn’t have a good reason for leaving back then, I wouldn’t have agreed to break up. Autumn, you’re always so stubborn.” His eyes searched mine. Looking for something I couldn’t give.

I took him off my block list, grabbed my phone, and quietly sent a ‘got it’ reply to that breakup message. My fingers trembled. But my face stayed blank.

“Ugh, your uptight personality can be so hard to deal with sometimes.” I forced a laugh. Hoping it would break the tension.

Ethan stared at me in silence. The city noise faded, and for a moment, it was just the two of us again.

I stood up and dusted off my clothes. The night air was cool. I shivered.

“What reason could there be? Maybe that winter, I really loved you. But now, it’s already fall of ‘24.” My voice was steady. My heart? Not so much.

In the adult world, there’s not much room for romance. After getting knocked around by life, I’ve figured it out. You can’t build a future on what-ifs and maybes. Trust me, I tried.

I’m not into brains or looks. I’m just into money. In this life, I’ll only ever love making money. I said it with a smile. But deep down, I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Time to wake up from the dream and get back to stringing corn dogs. The world keeps spinning, and the oil keeps bubbling. That’s just how it goes. For now, anyway.