Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
Tags: Repeated Breakups, Betrayal, Self-Growth, Regretful Ex / Groveling
My boyfriend loved to break up with me.
Take too long to reply to a text? Break up.
Dinner didn't taste amazing? Break up.
So, the ninety-ninth time Ethan threw out those words, I beat him to it: "Okay."
I answered so quickly that he froze for two whole seconds.
"You're... not even going to fight for this?"
"Nope. My takeout is here."
I walked downstairs to grab the food. When I came back up, he was still sitting on the couch.
"That's it?" he asked.
I opened the bag. A single serving.
He stared at the small carton for a long time.
"When did you start ordering food for just one?"
I thought about it for a second.
"Probably around the time you started answering every question with 'whatever.'"
He grabbed his jacket, walked to the front door, and glanced back at the fridge.
Our photo booth strips were still pinned there.
What he didn't know was that three days ago, I had already changed my default delivery address to my new apartment downtown.
Today was the last time anything would be delivered here.
And what he knew even less—
That single meal still had his favorite side order added to it.
I wouldn't be adding it ever again.
"Hey Avery, it's Chloe! Ethan asked me to get the admin passwords for the 'Savor & Spice' channel from you."
The call came barely three minutes after Ethan slammed the door shut.
The takeout container had just landed in the trash can, with his favorite extra toppings still sitting at the bottom.
"He doesn't remember them?" I asked.
"Well, he said you've always handled the backend stuff, so he's not totally sure about the details," Chloe said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Sorry to bother you, girl!"
"Are you with him right now?"
A tiny pause. "Um... yeah. Ethan was pretty down, so I grabbed a drink with him. Don't be too sad, okay Avery—"
Pretty down. We hadn't even been broken up for twenty minutes, and he was already out drinking with another girl.
"I'll email him the passwords tomorrow."
"Awesome! No rush, really—"
"Anything else?"
"Oh, right! The recipe master doc you put together? Ethan said to send that over too. It counts as channel assets, you know."
Those recipes were the result of me hitting over a hundred local spots and testing things at the stove hundreds of times. Ethan hadn't even tasted half of them before filming.
"Later," I said.
I hung up and opened Snapchat.
Ethan's Story was right at the top. Tagged at a local craft brewery downtown, featuring a pint of IPA. Right next to the coaster sat half of a pink, cartoon phone case.
Definitely not his.
Marcus, one of his buddies, was already commenting in the replies: [Finally cut the cord! You and Avery were never a match. She was way too bland.]
Ethan replied: [Yeah. Moving forward.]
I hadn't even taken the trash bag out, and he was already "moving forward."
Chloe hadn't posted anything publicly yet, but she had just reposted Ethan's restaurant review from three days ago on Twitter, captioning it: "Can't wait to collaborate with Ethan!"
Three days ago. The exact day Ethan told me, "We need to talk." Her caption had been ready since then.
Before I could close the app, Marcus called me directly.
"Avery, did you and Ethan actually split?"
"Yeah."
"Honestly? Long overdue. Don't take this the wrong way, but you guys were never on the same wavelength. Ethan needs someone with real spark, someone dynamic. You're just too—"
"Too what?"
"Too plain. You're like plain boiled pasta. It keeps you alive, but nobody walks into a restaurant just to order plain noodles."
That was the exact phrase Ethan used the last time he complained about my cooking.
"Got it."
"Look, I'm just looking out for you," Marcus pushed on. "Think about the last three years. Ethan's been sweating it out on camera, grinding, and you haven't really done much to—"
"Haven't done much?"
"That's not what I meant! Look, the editing, the color grading, anyone can do that. But Ethan's charisma? His screen presence? That's pure talent. You can't replace that. Don't flatter yourself too much."
Our mutual group chat was blowing up too.
[Every time we hung out, Avery barely said a word. Just sat in the corner eating snacks. Ethan had to carry the whole room alone. So exhausting.]
[Chloe is totally different. Funny, quick-witted, plays along with every bit. She and Ethan actually look like creators together.]
At our last party, the jokes Ethan told were from a script I had rewritten three times. The room roared with laughter while I sat quietly eating peanuts.
The next day, those jokes were posted on the official channel, credited entirely to him.
"Marcus, I have things to do."
"Wait—Ethan mentioned Chloe is joining him as co-creator now. If you're feeling bitter about it—"
"I'm not."
Chloe's message popped up on Snapchat again.
[Avery, one more tiny thing! Could you leave that German chef's knife at the studio? Ethan said that line is discontinued.]
I bought that knife with my very first cut of our sponsorship money.
"That knife belongs to me."
[Okay, okay, don't be mad! What about the handmade ceramic plating set? Ethan says he needs it for next week's shoot.]
"Also mine."
[Gotcha! Get some rest, girl. Ethan's heading to the studio tomorrow anyway, so he can pack up your personal stuff while he's there.]
She talked about clearing my life out as if she were doing a casual cleanup job.
Five minutes later, a text from Ethan buzzed in. His first direct contact with me since walking out.
[Make sure you send the recipes. Don't let your feelings mess with work. Those assets don't belong to you alone. Chloe's being really sweet about this, so stop making things hard for her.]
He had already forgotten.
The first time he came to my place, I spent four hours simmering a homemade bone broth from scratch just to make him a bowl of fresh noodles. He devoured three full bowls and swore, "I could eat this every single day for the rest of my life."
Later, that exact noodle dish was featured on our channel, racking up three million views. The top comment read: "Ethan must be an incredible cook."
He never corrected them.
I typed out a single line: "Does the recipe for that broth and handmade noodles count as a channel asset too?"
Three minutes later, his one-word reply came back.
"Yes.""You're just in time. Take those spice jars of yours with you; Chloe brought her own set."
Ethan was standing by the studio entrance, treating me like a courier who had just arrived to pick up a package.
From inside came Chloe's soft voice: "Ethan, is this lighting flattering on me?"
I looked past him.
She was wearing my apron. An ivory linen piece I had bought from an artisan cooking studio in Kyoto—one of a kind. The ties were neatly knotted behind her waist. Her phone was mounted on the heavy-duty rig I had built by hand, the camera pointed straight at the floor-to-ceiling spice wall I had spent a year and a half curating.
"What are you filming?" I asked.
"Oh, Avery, you're here!" Chloe tilted her head with a bright smile. "I'm just shooting a studio tour vlog! The fans have been begging for one forever—"
"You're filming *my* studio?"
"It's the 'Savor & Spice' studio," she corrected gently, turning her phone around.
The live chat was flying:
*Such a professional setup!*
*Chloe has the best aesthetic!*
*The new vibe is so fresh, can't wait for the new era!*
Every single glass jar on that spice wall was something I had hauled back myself from local markets across the country. Cajun rubs from New Orleans, artisan chili pastes from Nashville, rare spice blends from Chinatown. Every single jar had a handwritten label.
Written in my handwriting.
Chloe panned her camera across the shelves, beaming. "I gathered all of these one by one. In content creation, ingredients are the soul."
Ethan stepped inside and casually took his place right beside her.
"I'll pack my own things," I said, moving past him to drop my personal tools into my bag.
"Don't take stuff that belongs to the studio," he said, holding out a hand to block me.
"And what exactly belongs to the studio?"
"Everything on the counter, except your knife, pretty much. The camera rigs, the ring lights, that heavy-duty stand mixer—"
"I bought that mixer with my own money."
"With channel earnings."
"That was payment for my labor."
"Your labor was in service of the channel," he said, his tone so casually entitled it was almost innocent. "Can you stop making this so personal? Honestly, everything you did... anyone else could have done it."
Anyone else could have done it.
### 小说标题
He Thought I Was Replaceable### 全文翻译
Two hundred videos. Every single one, from initial concept to final cut, had passed through my hands.
Chloe ended her livestream and leaned in close, dropping her voice to an intimate whisper, like two best friends sharing secrets.
"Avery, I really don't want to make things awkward for you. Honestly, Ethan and I are purely business partners. If you really don't want me wearing this apron, I can take it off—"
She said it, but her hands didn't move an inch toward the ties.
"Keep it on," I said, crouching down to grab my baking pans from the bottom cabinet.
"You're so gracious, Avery." She took another half-step closer. "Not gonna lie, Ethan had a few too many drinks last night and opened up to me for hours. He said you're a really good person, just way too..."
"Too what?"
"His exact words were—'Being with her feels like living in a room without windows. Suffocating.'"
Two days ago, I was plain boiled pasta. Today, I was an airless room.
"I think you're great, though," Chloe purred, batting her mascara-heavy lashes. "Quiet people have their own quiet charms."
On the other side of the room, Ethan looked up from his phone. "Chloe, come pick out the ceramic bowls for next week's hot pot shoot."
Chloe jogged over, her voice bright. "Ethan, what about Avery's handcrafted ceramic set? It looks so gorgeous on camera—"
"That set belongs to the studio too," Ethan said, flicking a cold glance at me.
I packed my last item into the duffel—my German chef's knife.
Chloe trotted back over to me. "Oh right, Avery! Ethan just landed a massive brand deal with Golden Pot Hot Pot. Seventy-five thousand dollars! Did you know?"
"No."
"Ethan said you were the one who reached out to them originally? Anyway, he asked me to take over the account. Golden Pot needs an original recipe pitch deck—"
"I haven't sent the recipe master doc yet."
"Right, right, I know! Could you send it today? Golden Pot is pushing for it."
Golden Pot was a deal I had spent three months chasing, making over twenty cold calls. Ethan had dismissed them back then, calling them a niche brand that wasn't worth his time. I was the one who drafted four revisions of the proposal just to get their executive to sit down for a chat.
Now that it was a seventy-five-thousand-dollar contract, it suddenly had nothing to do with me.
I picked up my duffel and walked toward the exit.
"I took my knife."
Ethan didn't even look up. "Where's the recipe doc?"
"I'll think about it."
"What is there to think about?" He finally raised his head, his brows knotted in irritation. "Are you holding the recipes hostage to leverage me?"
Chloe chimed in from the side, her voice soft and diplomatic: "Ethan, relax, Avery isn't that kind of person..."
I pulled the door open.
I took one last look back—Chloe was standing there in my handmade apron, poised in front of the shooting counter I built, backed by the spice wall I curated, getting ready to film a sponsored video with my recipe, credited entirely to her name.
"Avery," Ethan called after me, barking like a manager reprimanding a subordinate. "Send it over by tomorrow night. Otherwise, don't blame me when I tell everyone you're sabotaging business deals over personal drama.""Dear User, your administrative privileges for the account 'Savor & Spice' have been removed by the account owner."
The system notification hit my inbox at 3:14 AM.
I sat on the hardwood floor of my new downtown apartment, surrounded by half-unpacked moving boxes, staring blankly at the words.
"Savor & Spice." I came up with that name three years ago, tracing it onto the fogged-up window of our tiny old place. Ethan had simply said, "Sounds good." We used a headshot of his face for the avatar, and the registration was under his phone number.
Back then, I didn't care. Now, it was a legally binding eviction notice.
At 7:00 AM, Chloe posted on Snapchat.
It was a photo of the studio workstation—my workstation, my spice wall. Right in the foreground was an open, weathered notebook.
A kraft paper cover, A5 size, with a dried coffee ring on the bottom-right corner.
Mine. Over two hundred dish development logs, detailing spice ratios, cook times, and temperature tweaks, every single page covered in my messy red-ink annotations.
Chloe's caption read:
[Clearing out the studio space and stumbled upon this holy grail of inspiration notes. Turns out all the magic behind 'Savor & Spice' was tucked inside this little treasure. Blood, sweat, and tears on every page. Can't wait to pour my heart into every upcoming dish! ️]
*We.* She used the word "we."
The comment section was buzzing:
*Chloe is so dedicated!*
*Ethan and Chloe are such a power couple, the channel is about to blow up!*
*The old content was fine, but it always felt kinda cold and soulless. With Chloe here, the whole vibe feels so warm and human.*
Human. Every single frame of color correction, every voiceover draft, every dynamic camera angle had been meticulously polished by me, frame by frame, deep into the night on my editing timeline.
I took a screenshot of her post and saved it into a newly created folder.
Then, I called Ethan.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Did you send the recipes?"
"You kicked me out of the admin panel."
"The platform only allows one primary manager."
"It supported two before."
"That was before," he clipped, pausing for a beat. "Stop dragging your feet over tiny details."
"Why is my notebook in Chloe's hands?"
"What notebook?"
"The kraft paper journal. Over two hundred recipes. She posted it on Snapchat."
A two-second silence. "That was left in the studio. It doesn't count as your private property."
"My name is written inside the front cover."
"Writing your name makes you the owner? Every single video on that channel features my face. Does that mean the entire brand belongs exclusively to me?"
The same old circular logic. Every time we argued, he did this—using an abstract, towering concept to crush a concrete fact.
"Ethan, every single recipe in that notebook was developed by me. You know that."
"I'm not denying you contributed. But those results were produced under the 'Savor & Spice' umbrella. They're channel IP. You never signed any independent intellectual property agreement."
I never signed one. Because it never crossed my mind that I needed a formal contract with my own boyfriend.
"What do you even want?" he snapped, his patience snapping. "You won't send the files, and now you want the notebook back—are you trying to cling onto the brand and me at the same time?"
"I already let you go."
"Then stop crawling back to pick fights. Chloe is ten times more practical than you. The minute she gets her hands on something, she gets to work. She doesn't sit around dwelling on petty grudges."
He exhaled heavily, switching to a patronizing, soothing tone. "Avery, real talk: I remember the things you did. But you have to understand, 'Savor & Spice' got this far because of my face, my screen presence, and my networking. Your part was important, but you're not irreplaceable."
Irreplaceable. I was irreplaceable when they needed passwords. Irreplaceable when they needed recipes. Once they took what they wanted, I became instantly replaceable.
I hung up, opened my laptop, and navigated to the official trademark database. I typed "Savor & Spice" into the search bar.
When the result loaded, I sat frozen.
Trademark Owner: Ethan Miller.
Registration Date: Two months ago.
Two months ago. We were still together. It was right after our biggest fight—the night Chloe called him at 2:00 AM asking for a ride from the airport. He had told me, "Let's take a few days to cool off."
During those "few days," he went and filed for the trademark.
While I was grinding away on the fourth draft of the Golden Pot sponsorship deck.
My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan:
[Golden Pot wants a video call to lock down the campaign details. No need for you to join, Chloe will handle the pitch. If you can, send the recipe doc tonight.]
I looked at the phrase: *No need for you to join.*
I texted back two words:
"Got it.""What are you doing here?"
Ethan stood in the corporate lobby of Golden Pot's downtown headquarters, dressed sharply in a tailored suit. He looked at me as if I were a stray cat wandering onto private property.
Chloe stood right behind him in a chic cream-colored pantsuit, cradling a presentation folder that clearly featured the layout template I had designed.
"I'm the one who negotiated this partnership with Golden Pot," I said evenly.
"That was the past." He stepped forward, dropping his voice to a hushed, exasperated tone, like he was explaining basic logic to a child. "You are no longer part of 'Savor & Spice.' Brands partner with the channel, not with you as an individual."
"The core dipping sauce and broth recipes in that pitch deck were created by me."
"You sent the doc to Chloe. The handover is officially done."
Last night before bed, I did email Chloe the recipe file. But it only contained the raw ingredients and rough ratios—the critical sautéing sequence, the temperature checkpoints, and the timing were completely omitted. Ethan wouldn't have a clue. He had never cooked a meal in his life.
"Ethan, we're gonna be late," Chloe murmured, gently tugging at his suit sleeve.
Ethan adjusted his silk tie, giving me one last cold glare. "Don't make a scene in a place like this. You're only humiliating yourself."
They turned toward the executive elevators.
I followed them.
Ethan whipped around, his brows furrowing deep. "What is your problem?"
"I'm sitting in on the meeting."
"Not happening."
"Mr. Zhou from Golden Pot was my direct contact—"
"Mr. Zhou isn't running today's pitch," Chloe cut in smoothly, offering a tight, polite smile. "It's Ms. Pei, the Chief Brand Officer. Ethan already prepped with her team."
Ethan glanced toward the lobby security guard and gave a slight nod.
"Excuse me, officer. This person isn't with our team."
The front desk receptionist looked between me and the official visitor clearance badge in Ethan's hand, looking uncomfortable as she stood up.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but if you're not on the approved guest list—"
"I'm leaving."
I didn't let her finish.
As the elevator doors slid shut, I caught a glimpse of Chloe leaning lightly against Ethan's shoulder, flipping through my printed recipe deck. Her baby-pink manicured nails flicked against the edge of the pages.
Outside the main glass doors, there was a row of concrete benches. The November wind sliced straight through my coat.
Our mutual group chat on Snapchat began pinging rapidly. Someone had leaked the story.
Marcus's text led the charge:
[Wait, did Avery actually show up at Golden Pot HQ to stalk Ethan??? Ultimate toxic ex behavior! Stalking him over a brand deal after getting dumped, is she for real???]
A string of laughing-crying emojis flooded the chat.
[Does she honestly think those recipes belong to her? Without Ethan giving her a platform, she'd be a nobody.]
[Just ignore her. Total sore loser behavior.]
I muted the group chat, leaning back against the cold stone bench. My fingers were turning numb and pale from the chill.
The heavy glass doors pushed open. Chloe strutted out in her pointed heels. When she spotted me still sitting there, she paused.
"Avery? Why are you still here?"
"Just taking a break."
She hesitated for a split second, then walked over and sat on the far edge of the bench.
"Look, Avery, I'll be blunt." She tilted her head, her pink nails tapping an idle rhythm on her knee. "It's over between you and Ethan. The content, the brand deals, the channel—none of it has anything to do with you anymore. Clinging onto this just makes you look desperate."
I said nothing.
She let out a soft chuckle, standing up and smoothing down her immaculate skirt.
"Ethan was right. You just don't know how to let go."
Her heels clicked rhythmically against the pavement as she walked away.
I sat on the bench for another three minutes.
My phone rang.
Not the group chat. Not Chloe. Not Ethan.
An unknown corporate number.
"Hello, is this Avery Vance?"
A woman's voice. Crisp, sharp, completely devoid of corporate fluff.
"Speaking."
"This is Victoria Pei, Chief Brand Officer at Golden Pot. A few issues came up during our presentation just now that raised serious red flags for me. I had our test kitchen immediately recreate the recipe pitch Chloe presented. The base ingredients and ratios were there, but crucial process steps were completely missing. The finished product tasted nothing like what was shown on your channel. When I pressed Ethan for answers, he couldn't explain."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"So, I took a look into the metadata of 'Savor & Spice's' early content library. The equipment profiles, the editing software licenses, the registered typography fonts—everything pointed straight to one single creator."
The wind swirled fallen leaves across the pavement.
"And it wasn't Ethan Miller."
A three-second silence hung on the line.
"Ms. Vance, are you free to meet tomorrow? Ten sharp, Golden Pot Headquarters, eighteenth floor. I'll make sure security has your name at the front desk."
I looked through the glass into the lobby, where the white directory board listed the day's registered guests.
My name hadn't been on it.
But Victoria Pei's call was about to put me at a much bigger table.
"I'll be there."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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