Goodbye to the Man I Sewed For - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The year my heart belonged entirely to Ethan, I poured my soul into crafting a suit just for him—one I named after him.
He was ecstatic, pulling me into his arms and whispering it was the most precious gift he'd ever received.
Years later, Ethan became a star. Backstage at an awards show, he eagerly changed into a suit—one that matched the female lead's.
His eyes flicked over me with cold disdain. "So cheap. The things you make don't suit my status anymore."
Not long after, photos surfaced of him and Linda locked in a passionate kiss at a private villa. The world called them a perfect match. Ethan never denied it.
I didn't cry. Didn't scream. Instead, I booked a one-way ticket to Sundora, ready to leave the exhaustion behind.
Dreamscape reached out almost immediately.
The moment my flight was confirmed, their representative called, voice brimming with excitement. "Miss Johnson, we're thrilled you chose us. Someone will meet you at the airport Monday."
Turns out, byes weren't as hard as I'd thought. Yet because of Ethan, I'd let myself stay trapped in this suffocating little world for far too long.
"Alright," I said. "See you then."
I didn't hear the door open. Ethan's arms—reeking of alcohol—wrapped around me from behind. "Who were you talking to?"
Panicked, I dropped my phone, scrambling out of his grip to grab it.
His voice turned sharp. "What's your problem now? Linda and I are just playing our parts for the cameras."
Silence. Then his phone buzzed. A breathy, pleading voice floated through—Linda's. "Ethan, the director's making me drink. I'm scared."
His expression darkened instantly, protective rage flashing in his eyes. "If he lays a finger on you, he's done. Stay put. I'm coming."
I watched him walk away, the slam of the door ringing in my ears.
Same old story. Every time Ethan stumbled home drunk, Linda always found a way to pull him back out, leaving me behind like an afterthought.
This time, I didn't flinch. Numbly, I headed to the bedroom to pack.
Of course, he didn't return. My gaze landed on the framed photo by the bed—Ethan, young and radiant, wearing the burgundy suit I'd made for his first supporting role. Back then, his smile could light up the world.
Five years later, everything had changed.
Ethan was now a star. I was still just a nobody tailor.
I tossed the photo into the trash, along with every anniversary gift I'd ever given him—some of which he'd once treasured.
Before bed, my phone buzzed. A voice message from Linda. Attached was a photo—a man's hand gripping her waist, a fresh love bite on her neck.
"Ethan, you're incredible," her voice purred. "Does she really not satisfy you at all?"
Ethan's reply followed, laced with cruel amusement: "How could she compare to you? All she's for is stitching together cheap little handmade trinkets."
My chest caved in. Silent tears hit the floor.
The next morning, Ethan surprised me by coming home.
He moved around the kitchen, frying eggs, warming milk—playing the devoted boyfriend. "I know how much you love breakfast," he said, earnest, as if last night had never happened.
For a second, I almost believed him.
Then I caught the sickly-sweet perfume clinging to his shirt—Linda's signature scent.
I took the milk. "What was so urgent last night?"
His eyes darted away. "Last-minute reshoot. Slept in the car after."
I arched a brow.
Instantly, he bristled. "God, Mia, are you looking for a fight again? Drop it."
I didn't argue. Just sipped my milk and let the silence swallow his lies whole.