Goodbye to the Man I Sewed For - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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Ethan woke to chaos and a note. "Let's break up, Ethan. These clothes are the witnesses."
The fog of alcohol lifted as he scrambled for his phone, dialing my number again and again—but I wasn't picking up.
Meanwhile, my plane cut through the clouds, landing in sun-drenched Sundora.
The Dreamscape team greeted me at the airport with warm smiles, effortlessly taking my suitcase. "Miss Johnson, your accommodations are ready. Once you sign the contract, we'll take you there."
I thanked them, quickly scanning the paperwork before my eyes snagged on a name at the bottom: Nathan Moore.
"You're going to be a star designer," someone said.
But since I'd landed, Ethan hadn't stopped calling—switching numbers every time I blocked him. He wasn't giving up.
Finally, I answered.
"You've got some nerve, Mia," his voice seethed. "Breaking up with me? Apologize. Now."
Then Linda's voice cut in, breathy and close to the mic. "Ethan, I'm exhausted. What are you even doing?"
The line went dead, leaving only silence.
I hadn't packed much, so my new place felt bare—until Nathan brought over a few potted plants. "A little green helps," he said.
That night, I sketched furiously, erasing and redrawing until exhaustion pulled me under.
The next morning, news broke: Ethan and Linda had won an award. She'd tweeted from his phone—a photo of their intertwined hands.
Five years together, and I'd never once touched his phone. Yet there she was, posting like it was nothing.
I deleted my old account, wiping away every trace of him.
Nathan picked me up for my first day. Nerves fluttered in my chest—why would Dreamscape want me?
"Your designs stand out," he said. Then, casually: "Was that suit Ethan wore at the banquet two years ago yours? Why'd you stop?"
My chest tightened. Because he called them cheap. Because I believed him.
But now? Second chances existed.
I forced a smile and changed the subject.
Still, I couldn't resist checking the news. There they were—Ethan and Linda, hand in hand on stage. She "accidentally" tripped, her dress slipping just enough for the cameras.
The next day, Ethan made it official: "In a relationship with Linda." She reposted with "My dear Ethan."
Fine. I wished them happiness. Maybe now he'd leave me alone.
But midnight brought a barrage of calls—dozens, relentless. I ignored them, until a text came through:
[Come back, Mia. I'll apologize. Make me another suit. I threw out all the scraps.]
I laughed coldly. [We're done.]
His reply was a storm of rage—hundreds of messages, ending with: [You'll regret this.]
I stared at the screen, bitterness rising. His apology? Too little, too late.
Then, an unexpected call. The director from Ethan's first big role—the one who'd cast him because of us.
"I've always loved your work," he said.
Funny how life circles back.
The fog of alcohol lifted as he scrambled for his phone, dialing my number again and again—but I wasn't picking up.
Meanwhile, my plane cut through the clouds, landing in sun-drenched Sundora.
The Dreamscape team greeted me at the airport with warm smiles, effortlessly taking my suitcase. "Miss Johnson, your accommodations are ready. Once you sign the contract, we'll take you there."
I thanked them, quickly scanning the paperwork before my eyes snagged on a name at the bottom: Nathan Moore.
"You're going to be a star designer," someone said.
But since I'd landed, Ethan hadn't stopped calling—switching numbers every time I blocked him. He wasn't giving up.
Finally, I answered.
"You've got some nerve, Mia," his voice seethed. "Breaking up with me? Apologize. Now."
Then Linda's voice cut in, breathy and close to the mic. "Ethan, I'm exhausted. What are you even doing?"
The line went dead, leaving only silence.
I hadn't packed much, so my new place felt bare—until Nathan brought over a few potted plants. "A little green helps," he said.
That night, I sketched furiously, erasing and redrawing until exhaustion pulled me under.
The next morning, news broke: Ethan and Linda had won an award. She'd tweeted from his phone—a photo of their intertwined hands.
Five years together, and I'd never once touched his phone. Yet there she was, posting like it was nothing.
I deleted my old account, wiping away every trace of him.
Nathan picked me up for my first day. Nerves fluttered in my chest—why would Dreamscape want me?
"Your designs stand out," he said. Then, casually: "Was that suit Ethan wore at the banquet two years ago yours? Why'd you stop?"
My chest tightened. Because he called them cheap. Because I believed him.
But now? Second chances existed.
I forced a smile and changed the subject.
Still, I couldn't resist checking the news. There they were—Ethan and Linda, hand in hand on stage. She "accidentally" tripped, her dress slipping just enough for the cameras.
The next day, Ethan made it official: "In a relationship with Linda." She reposted with "My dear Ethan."
Fine. I wished them happiness. Maybe now he'd leave me alone.
But midnight brought a barrage of calls—dozens, relentless. I ignored them, until a text came through:
[Come back, Mia. I'll apologize. Make me another suit. I threw out all the scraps.]
I laughed coldly. [We're done.]
His reply was a storm of rage—hundreds of messages, ending with: [You'll regret this.]
I stared at the screen, bitterness rising. His apology? Too little, too late.
Then, an unexpected call. The director from Ethan's first big role—the one who'd cast him because of us.
"I've always loved your work," he said.
Funny how life circles back.
End of Goodbye to the Man I Sewed For Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to Goodbye to the Man I Sewed For book page.