My Ex-Fiancé Calls Me Auntie

Chase abandoned me in an escape room for his ex-crush.

When I was finally rescued, shaking and disoriented, he was standing there with his arm around her, looking at me with pure disgust.

God, Zara, are you blind?

I didn't tell him the truth.

I didn't tell him that my world was actually fading into permanent darkness.

I didn't tell him that soon, the roles would reverse. That he would be the one losing his mind, kneeling at my feet.

"Marry me, Zara. Please. Let me be your eyes."

Chapter 1

Three years together.

This was the first time Chase had ever brought me to meet his inner circle.

And her. Hailey.

The second she walked into the room, the weight of Chases arm vanished from my shoulders. He recoiled, his hand dropping to his side as if touching me was suddenly a crime.

That stung. A dull, serrated blade dragging across my chest.

I knew the score. Hailey wasn't just the girl next door. She was the one Chase had been obsessed with for five years.

But Id loved him for five years, too.

So I played the part. I swallowed the jealousy, plastered on a smile, and pretended I didn't notice the shift in his gravity.

Dinner ended, and the check was barely paid before Hailey chirped up.

"Let's go to that new escape room downtown!"

The group cheered. Chases whole demeanor brightened, more excited than Id seen him in months.

My eyes were throbbing again. A sharp, rhythmic pressure building behind my lids, blurring the edges of the room.

I rubbed them instinctively and reached out, tugging gently on Chases sleeve. "Chase, you guys go ahead. Im not feeling great. I think Im just going to grab an Uber home."

He turned to me, and the warmth in his eyes evaporated, replaced by a flash of annoyance. "Everyone is watching, Zara. This is the first time I've brought you out, and you want to bail? Don't be a buzzkill."

Hailey leaned in across the table, biting her lip, the picture of innocent concern. "Is Zara okay? Is she sick?"

Chase squeezed my hand under the table. Hard. A warning. "She's fine. She's just being lazy. Ignore her."

I didn't want to be the difficult girlfriend. I didn't want to ruin his night. So I swallowed the pain and followed them.

Hailey picked the horror theme. Of course she did.

The puzzles were designed to split us up. Within twenty minutes, the group had thinned out until it was just the three of us in a cramped, concrete cell.

The next door had a sensor. It only allowed two people to pass.

Panic spiked in my chest. I gripped Chases bicep, my knuckles turning white.

Don't leave me.

He didn't even hesitate.

He shook me off. "You wait here. Hailey and I will go ahead. Well come back for you once we clear the next puzzle."

"Chase"

The heavy metal door slammed shut between us.

Darkness swallowed the room. Absolute, suffocating black.

My equilibrium shattered. I was a drifter who had lost her anchor. I reached out, clawing at empty air, my breathing turning shallow and ragged.

"Chase? I Im scared."

Silence.

He was too busy playing hero for Hailey to hear me.

I stumbled backward, my shoulder hitting the cold wall. I slid down, curling into a ball on the dirty floor, trembling violently. The darkness wasn't just around me; it felt like it was leaking into my brain.

I don't know how long I sat there, fighting the rising bile of terror.

Then, a shadow detached itself from the gloom.

"Seems like someone got left behind."

The voice was deep. Baritone. Not Chase.

My hope flickered and died.

I couldn't focus on his face. Everything was swimming in a gray haze.

The stranger helped me up, his grip firm but impersonal, and guided me out of the maze.

When we finally burst into the harsh fluorescent lights of the lobby, Chase was the first thing I saw.

He didn't rush over. He didn't check for injuries. He didn't hug me.

He glared.

He looked at me like I was a stain on his shirt. "Zara, are you brain-dead or just blind? You couldn't walk out on your own?"

Tears welled up, hot and stinging, turning his angry face into a smear of color.

He didn't know.

I really was going blind.

Chapter 2

My failing vision has Chase's signature all over it.

Chase lives for the adrenaline spike. He thinks hes invincible behind the wheel, a god on the asphalt. But the one time he convinced me to get in the passenger seat, his luck ran out.

We crashed.

The windshield shattered, imploding inward. A shard of glass sliced into the corner of my eye.

The doctor was blunt: "Miss Zara, you are dangerously close to permanent blindness. You need to protect your eyes. And whatever you do, try not to cry. Intraocular pressure is your enemy."

But Chase? Chase is the reason I cry.

Back at the apartment, he ignored the tears sliding down my cheeks, yanking at his tie to loosen the knot with a violent jerk. "Cry, cry, cry. Is that all you do? Cant I say a single word without you turning into a waterworks show?"

I pretended I didn't hear him. I turned away, fumbling in the drawer for my prescription drops. "Chase can you drive me to the hospital tomorrow? I need a check-up."

He froze. His shoulders dropped an inch, and he nodded stiffly.

Its the one thing that still gets to him. The guilt. Its the only leverage I have left.

The next morning, the hospital smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee.

Chase waited in the hallway while I went into the examination room.

The news wasn't good. The doctors voice was grave. "Its deteriorating faster than we anticipated. We need to schedule surgery within the month, or the damage will be irreversible."

My fingers tightened around the paper report until the edges bit into my skin. Surgery. I needed to tell Chase. I needed him to tell me it would be okay.

I pushed open the door.

The hallway was empty.

Maybe he went to the restroom.

I sat on the hard plastic chair, the report heavy in my lap. Five minutes. Ten.

I stood up and wandered down the corridor. I spotted a familiar silhouette near the ENT department.

Chase.

And Hailey.

"Chase, really, it's just a sore throat," Hailey cooed, her voice sugary sweet. "You shouldn't have left Zara. Go back to her."

Despite her words, her head was resting comfortably against his right arm, her body angled into his.

"Her eyes? Thats an old problem. Shes fine," Chase said, his voice low and tendera tone he hadn't used on me in years. "But you how did you get sick? You need to be more careful. Come on, Ill drive you home."

He wrapped his arm around her waist, handling her like she was made of spun glass.

I stood frozen. The name Chase was a jagged rock lodged in my throat, choking off any sound. I watched them walk away, a perfect couple disappearing into the crowd.

Buzz.

My phone vibrated. It was the special ringtone Id assigned to him.

[Chase]: Something came up. Work emergency. Take a cab home.

A notification followed immediately. A transfer of 0-0,500.

I stared at the screen, my vision blurring not from the injury, but from the sheer audacity of it.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the glass for a split second.

I tapped the screen.

Transfer declined.

I walked to the pharmacy counter in a daze. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't get a grip on the bag. I turned too fast, colliding with a solid wall of muscle.

The bag hit the floor. Pills scattered across the linoleum like white confetti.

The man looked down. His eyebrows shot up.

"Zara?"

I squinted. The man standing before me was RomanChases uncle.

Wed only met once, briefly, when he came to discuss business with Chase. He was the head of the Song family empire, a man who radiated a cold, dangerous kind of power.

I didn't think hed remember someone like me.

He crouched down, his expensive suit straining slightly as he began gathering the pill bottles.

"Where is my nephew?" Roman asked, his voice deep and clipped. "Why isn't he here with you?"

I forced the corners of my mouth up, digging my fingernails into my palms to keep from falling apart. "He he had a work emergency. He had to go."

Roman stopped gathering. He stood up, towering over me, holding the bag of meds. He looked at mereally looked at mewith eyes that seemed to strip away the lie instantly.

"Right," he said dryly. "Let's go. I'll drive you."

"Oh, no, I couldn't trouble"

"Get in the car, Zara."

It wasn't a suggestion.

I remembered Chase telling me his uncle was cold and unapproachable. But as he opened the passenger door for me, protecting my head from the frame, he seemed decent.

We pulled up to the curb of our apartment building just as a familiar car pulled away.

Chase was back from dropping off Hailey.

He spotted us immediately.

He saw me step out of his uncles luxury sedan. He saw Roman standing close to me, handing me the pharmacy bag.

Something dark ignited in Chase's eyes. A flare of possessive, irrational anger. He stormed over, snatching me by the waist and pulling me roughly into his side before grabbing the bag from Romans hand.

"Uncle Roman," Chase said, his jaw tight. "You didn't need to bother yourself with this. It's a small matter."

Roman didn't back down. He didn't even blink. His presence was suffocating, effortlessly overpowering Chases tantrum.

"You know me, Chase," Roman said, his voice smooth as silk but sharp as a razor. "Ive always had a bad habit of getting involved where Im not wanted."

The air between them crackled.

Romans gaze shifted from Chase to me. It was aggressive. Unapologetic.

It made my skin prickle.

Chase sensed the shift. He tightened his grip on my waist, his lips pressed into a thin, white line.

Chapter 3

The standoff lasted an eternity in seconds.

Then, Roman scoffed. A sharp, dismissive sound that cut through the tension like a knife. He didn't say a word. He just yanked the car door open, slid into the leather seat, and drove off.

The moment we stepped inside the apartment, Chase exploded.

He threw the pharmacy bag onto the sofa, where it hit the cushions with a dull thud. "Seriously, Zara? You go to the doctor and you somehow manage to flirt with him? Do you really think someone like Roman would ever look twice at you?"

Usually, I would have panicked. I would have scrambled to explain, to soothe his ego, to apologize for things I didn't do.

But today? I was hollowed out.

I didn't answer. I just walked past him.

Chase wasn't used to silence. He followed me, snapping at my heels like a feral dog refusing to let go of a bone. "I'm talking to you!"

I stopped. I turned around and recited the day's events. Every detail. The waiting. The abandonment. The accidental meeting.

I left out only one thing: The surgery.

My voice was flat. Dead.

It threw him off. He blinked, his aggression faltering against my wall of indifference. "Look, Zara you know Hailey just moved back to the States. She doesn't have any friends here yet."

Liar.

Yesterday, she was the center of the universe. Everyone gravitated toward her.

"Okay," I said.

The pressure behind my eyes spiked. A warning. The blurriness was creeping in at the edges of my vision again.

I turned away before he could see the grimace of pain. "I'm going to bed."

The symptoms were accelerating.

The next day, I called the specialist. We scheduled the surgery for next week.

I walked out of the hospital clutching a surgical consent form. The text was dense, but one sentence stood out in bold: Even with surgery, there is a 50% probability of permanent blindness.

A coin toss.

Heads, I see. Tails, eternal darkness.

I didn't go home. I took an Uber to the market.

I bought groceries. Heavy bags filled with fresh ingredients. Every single item was something Chase loved.

If the coin landed on tails, this would be the last time Id ever see his face across the dinner table. I wanted to make him one last meal.

I texted him. To my surprise, he replied instantly.

[Chase]: I'll be home.

I spent hours in the kitchen. My finger throbbed where the knife had nicked it deep, but I ignored it.

When Chase walked in, I was placing the final dish on the table. Seafood chowder. His absolute favorite.

I sat down, my eyes stinging and watery, watching him with a desperate kind of hope.

He took two bites of the stir-fry. Put his fork down.

He took one spoonful of the chowder.

"Chase? Is it is it okay?"

He pushed the bowl away, his brow furrowing in distaste. "It's too salty."

My smile shattered. I hid my bandaged finger under the table. "Oh."

He stood up and walked into the bedroom without another word.

I grabbed the spoon hed used. I tasted the soup.

It wasn't salty. It was perfect.

I didn't understand.

I didn't realize then that the problem wasn't the salt. The problem was that he had developed a taste for something else.

Ding-dong.

"DoorDash for Chase?"

I took the bag. It wasn't unusual. Chase was a gamer; he pulled all-nighters and lived on caffeine and takeout.

I didn't think twice about it.

Until the next morning.

I was emptying the trash can in the kitchen when I saw it.

A bright pink box. And inside, the wrapper of a cupcake. A creamy, sugary cupcake.

I froze.

Chase hated sweets. He despised cream. He used to call it "cloying garbage." Back when we started dating, Id beg him to share a dessert with me, and hed roll his eyes and call me childish until I stopped asking. I eventually stopped eating sugar altogether just to align with him.

I dug deeper into the bin.

Stuck to the bottom of the box was a heart-shaped sticky note.

My heart hammered against my ribs, an erratic, painful rhythm. My fingers trembled as I peeled it off.

"Chasethanks for the ride home. You have to eat this, okay? No wasting food! <3"

Hailey.

That was the power of the "one that got away."

She didn't need to change her tastes for him. She didn't need to worry about being childish.

She didn't need to ask. She didn't need to try. She was the answer.

Hot, searing tears welled up in my eyes.

No. No, no, no.

Intraocular pressure.

Zara, you cannot cry. You will go blind.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping for air, trying to force the tears back down.

Footsteps.

Chase walked into the kitchen. He saw the note in my hand. He saw my face.

He snatched the note away, crumpling it in his fist. "God, what are you freaking out about now?"

His voice was cold. So cold it burned.

I looked at him, my vision swimming in a dangerous haze.

I made a vow right then.

I would never cook for Chase again.

Chapter 4

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Then, the front door slammed. The frame rattled. Chase was gone.

My phone buzzed in my hand, breaking the trance. A notification from the photography studio.

[Reminder: Your appointment is tomorrow at 10:00 AM. Please arrive on time for hair and makeup.]

I froze. I had completely forgotten.

Two weeks ago, in a fit of optimism, I booked a "Couples Romance" package.

I stared at the closed door where Chase had just stormed out. I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen.

I typed a reply: Can I change this to a solo shoot?

Chase had forgotten. Or maybe he remembered and just didn't care. Either way, we weren't posing for happy photos tomorrow.

The studio was located on the ground floor of the Song Corporation building.

I arrived the next morning, eyes puffy, clutching the receipt like a lifeline. As I reached for the glass door, it swung open.

Roman.

He was stepping out, adjusting his cufflinks. He stopped when he saw me, his gaze dropping to the crumpled paper in my hand.

He raised an eyebrow. "He bailed?"

I squeezed the paper into a tight ball, my nails digging into my palm. "I'm just doing a solo portrait."

I tried to step past him. Roman didn't move. He reached out, his hand closing around my wristwarm, firm, inescapableand pulled me into the studio.

Brenda, the owner, bustled over with a wide, professional smile. "Zara! You're here. Wait, didn't you say over the phone you were coming alone? What about the couple's package?"

I opened my mouth to cancel it.

"We'll keep it," Roman interrupted, his voice calm and authoritative. "We're shooting."

I whipped my head around to look at him. Are you insane?

He leaned down, a smirk playing on his lips. "What? I'm much better looking than my nephew. You're getting an upgrade."

I should have said no. I should have run.

But ten minutes later, I was standing under the studio lights next to Roman.

He looked devastating in a tuxedo. Sharp. Commanding.

And strangely right.

We barely knew each other, but when the camera clicked, something shifted. We didn't need direction. His hand found the small of my back naturally. My head tilted toward his shoulder without thought.

It felt like we had been loving each other for a lifetime.

Even Brenda paused behind the camera, scrolling through the preview screen. "Wow," she breathed. "You two have insane chemistry. Its electric."

She sent the digital proofs to both of us before we left.

When I got home, the air was heavy.

Chase was waiting.

He didn't say hello. He threw his phone onto the coffee table, where it slid across the surface and hit my leg. "You took couple photos with Roman?"

The screen was lit up. Roman's Instagram Story.

No caption. Just the photo. Me and him, looking like a power couple in black and white. It was ambiguous. Provocative.

Chase was vibrating with anger. Good. It meant he still cared, at least a little.

"I didn't want to waste the deposit," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "I told you about this shoot a week ago."

"I forgot!" Chase shouted, raking a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you remind me? Why didn't you reschedule?"

The hope that had sparked in my chest was instantly extinguished by a bucket of ice water.

I pulled up my call log and shoved my phone in his face. "Remind you? I called you five times today, Chase. Five."

I scrolled down. Red text everywhere.

"You sent me straight to voicemail. You blocked me on Insta."

Silence.

Every time we fought, this was his move. The silent treatment. The digital wall. And every time, I was the one who had to crawl over it to beg for forgiveness.

Chase looked at the screen. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a flicker of panic. He realized he had pushed too far.

He stepped forward, reaching for me. "Zara babe"

I took a step back. I put a hand on his chest, stopping him cold.

I needed to know.

"Chase. Does my necklace look good?"

He froze. His arms hovered in the air, awkward and heavy.

The air left the room.

My neck was bare.

But I had seen the photos. The nine photos Hailey had posted from their "friend date." In eight of them, a silver diamond pendant glinted at her throat.

I knew that necklace. I had found the velvet box in Chases jacket pocket weeks ago. I had held my breath, thinking, Finally. He bought me a gift.

My head gave a sudden, violent throb. A spike of pain behind my eyes that made my knees buckle.

I couldn't think about it. If I thought about it, I would shatter.

I pushed past his stunned expression. "I'm sleeping in the guest room."

We lived like ghosts in the same house for the next few days.

Cold. Distant.

Until the day of the surgery.

I went under anesthesia praying for a miracle.

I didn't get one.

God didn't blink. The coin flipped, and it landed on the wrong side.

When I woke up, the bandages came off, but the world didn't come back.

Darkness. Absolute, heavy, permanent darkness.

I lay there in the hospital bed, listening to the hum of machines, unable to see my own hands. For the first time, amidst the terror, a strange clarity washed over me.

I thought about my blind, stupid love for Chase.

And I felt it.

Like a tide going out, my love for him was receding. Drop by drop. Shadow by shadow.

It was fading into the dark.

Chapter 5

It took three days.

Three days of darkness before Chase finally stormed into my hospital room.

He thought I was ghosting him. He thought I was playing hard to get until he went back to the apartment and found the crumpled surgery notification on the floor. The date on the paper was three days old.

I couldn't see him. My world was a void of sterile smells and beeping monitors. But I heard him. I heard the ragged intake of breath, the frantic shuffling of shoes against linoleum.

He collapsed by the bed. His hands, shaking violently, found mine. "Zara God, Zara. Marry me. Please."

His voice cracked, thick with tears. "Let me be your eyes from now on. Ill take care of you. I swear."

Logic screamed at me to kick him out. My heart was a bruised, bleeding mess because of him.

But then, it happened. A surge of artificial warmth flooded my chest. That familiar, toxic compulsion to forgive him, to need him, overrode my brain. It was like a drug hitting my bloodstream, instant and overpowering.

My mouth moved before I could stop it. "Okay."

I accepted the proposal born of guilt.

I don't know what strings Chase pulled or who he bribed, but the Song family approved the marriage instantly.

The date was set. Fast. Three days after my discharge.

Chase promised me the fairytale. The cathedral, the imported flowers, the designer dress. He said it was everything I ever dreamed of.

But as the makeup artist applied layers of powder to my face, I felt nothing. No flutter of excitement. Just a cold, heavy stone in the pit of my stomach.

We were standing at the entrance to the nave. The organ music swelled.

Then, his phone rang.

Chase answered. The shift in his tone was immediate. The frantic edge disappeared, replaced by a soft, terrifying gentleness. "I'm coming. Stay right there. Don't move."

He hung up. The air around me grew frigid.

"I'm sorry, Zara."

"What?"

"It's Hailey. She's in trouble. I can't leave her alone."

"Trouble?" I whispered, my grip on his arm tightening. "I heard you, Chase. She's just lost. She just took a wrong turn."

"She doesn't know the city! She's panic-attacking!"

He tried to pull away.

Panic, real and raw, clawed at my throat. "Chase, please. The music is playing. Everyone is watching. Don't leave me here. Don't leave me standing at the altar alone. I can't see"

He ripped his arm from my grasp. "Zara, grow up. Stop being so selfish."

The force of his rejection sent me stumbling backward. My heel caught on the hem of my gown.

I crashed to the floor.

A collective gasp rippled through the church. Whispers erupted like a swarm of angry bees.

Humiliation. It burned hotter than the scrape on my elbow.

Then, time fractured.

A mechanical, genderless voice exploded inside my skull.

[SYSTEM ALERT: WORLD STABILITY CRITICAL. REBOOT INITIATED.]

[Connection Established. Entity: Glitch.]

"What what is this?"

[Welcome, Host. You are currently bound to the Obsessive Love Protocol.]

The voice downloaded the truth directly into my consciousness.

Five years ago. I was twenty. I had a fever of 104, hallucinating, dying. Chase, my classmate at the time, carried me through a rainstorm to the ER.

I thought I loved him because he saved my life. I thought my devotionthe kind that made me betray my parents, humiliate myself, and tolerate his abusewas just gratitude.

"No," the voice droned. "You were collateral damage. The previous Host in this sector committed suicide after a failed romance arc. You were in the adjacent bed. The System jumped to you to survive."

I was a rebound for a parasitic AI.

"Why me?" I screamed internally.

[Proximity. Bad luck.]

"Unbind me. Get out of my head!"

[Negative. Unbinding requires Mission Completion. Failure results in total termination of Host and System.]

"Great," I thought, the urge to vomit rising. "So I have to marry the jerk who just dumped me on the floor?"

[Calculations adjusted. The System, scraping together its meager points, authorizes a target reassignment as a compensation package.]

[Please select a new target.]

Time seemed to restart.

Someone was touching my arm. Strong hands. Not Chase.

I sensed a presence. A scent of expensive tobacco and cedarwood.

Roman.

I didn't think. I just wanted to burn the script.

"Fine," I told the voice. "I choose him."

[Target Locked: Roman Song.]

"Wait," I thought. "How do I"

[Connection Terminated. Good luck.]

Zzzzt.

Reality snapped back. The whispers of the crowd roared in my ears.

I was clutching the lapel of the man helping me up.

I turned my face toward where I thought his eyes were. "Roman?"

"I've got you," his deep voice rumbled against my chest.

I took a breath, inhaling his scent, and let the madness take the wheel. "Roman. Do you want to marry me?"

The silence that followed was absolute