It started on a Saturday afternoon, the kind where nothing exciting is supposed to happen. I was in the kitchen making coffee when Ethan, my boyfriend of three years, came in looking frustrated.
“The Wi-Fi’s been acting up all morning,” he said. “I’ll go check the router in the office.”
I barely looked up. Ethan was tech-savvy, and I’d learned to let him handle anything that involved blinking lights and tangled cords. I assumed he’d be in and out in a few minutes.
He wasn’t.
The Lingering
Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. I finally wandered down the hall to see if he needed help. The office door was mostly closed, just enough for me to hear the faint click of keys and the soft murmur of his voice.
I pushed it open, ready to tease him about talking to the router like it could hear him.
But he wasn’t talking to the router.
He was on a video call. And on the screen was Mia.
The Name I Never Forgot
Mia had been Ethan’s ex before me—the one he swore was “ancient history.” She had moved to another state after they broke up, and though he’d mentioned her a handful of times early in our relationship, it was always in a dismissive, almost bored tone.
“Hey, I’ll call you back,” Ethan said quickly when he saw me. He closed the laptop like he’d been caught doing something illegal.
I stood frozen in the doorway. “Why are you talking to Mia?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. I was just helping her troubleshoot her Wi-Fi. She remembered I was good with tech.”
My eyes narrowed. “So… she just happened to call you for help after all this time?”
The Excuse
Ethan launched into a rambling explanation about how she’d sent him a Facebook message out of the blue, complaining about her internet, and how he couldn’t say no because “it would be rude.”
“You were in here for almost half an hour,” I said. “Was it all about her Wi-Fi?”
He hesitated. “We caught up a little. That’s all.”
But his face told me it wasn’t just catching up.
The Slip
Over the next few days, I noticed Ethan was glued to his phone more than usual. He’d tilt the screen away when I walked by. Once, when I asked who he was texting, he said “Mike,” but I caught a glimpse of the chat—it was Mia.
I didn’t confront him immediately. Instead, I logged into our shared internet account. The browsing history told me everything: late-night video calls, messages sent through apps I didn’t even have installed.
The router hadn’t been the only thing he’d “reconnected” that day.
The Confrontation
One evening, I set my phone down on the coffee table, took a deep breath, and said, “I know you’ve been talking to her. A lot.”
Ethan’s eyes darted to his phone. “You’re overreacting. We’re just friends.”
“Friends don’t hide their conversations. Friends don’t delete call logs.”
He had no answer for that.
I told him I needed space to think. He moved out two days later, claiming he didn’t want to “make me uncomfortable.” I think the truth was, he didn’t want to choose between me and Mia.
Moving On
It’s been four months since then. The Wi-Fi works fine now, and I handle the router myself. I’ve also blocked Mia on every platform, not out of spite, but because I don’t want her shadow creeping into my life again.
Ethan tried reaching out once, saying he missed “what we had.” I didn’t reply. I’ve learned that when someone reconnects with their past behind your back, it’s usually because they see a future without you.
Final Thought
Betrayal doesn’t always come in the form of loud fights or obvious lies. Sometimes, it slips quietly through the cracks—under the guise of fixing a problem—until you realize it wasn’t the Wi-Fi that needed repairing.
