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I Broke Up With My Boyfriend After Making Him Sweet and Sour Pork Ribs Novel Cover

I Broke Up With My Boyfriend After Making Him Sweet and Sour Pork Ribs

To celebrate her promotion, she spent hours cooking Chase Crawford’s favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, only for him to send her away on a fake errand. Returning out of breath, she discovers the plate picked clean, with Chase feeding the very last piece to Ivy Winters. Instead of accepting his demand to cook more, she throws her apron in the trash, tells him to vacate their apartment when the lease ends, and calls off the relationship. Chase is stunned, unable to believe she is leaving him over a plate of food.
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Chapter 2

Understanding!

Always telling me to be more understanding!

I was shaking with rage. "Chase Crawford, do you have any idea what today is? It's the day I got my promotion!"

"I was so excited to celebrate with you, but what happened? She ate all the food I cooked."

"The travel fund I painstakingly saved has been turned into luxury goods for her!"

"And you still expect me to be understanding?"

"That's enough!" Chase Crawford cut me off impatiently. "It's just a promotion. Is it necessary to make such a big deal out of it? Come have some cake! Don't ruin the mood for everyone!"

I took a deep breath, swallowing the metallic taste in my throat.

"Chase, I'm allergic to mangoes."

A dead silence fell over the room.

The smile on Chase Crawford's face froze.

He was stunned for two seconds, then his embarrassment turned into a rage.

"Are you trying to pick a fight on purpose? Is it really that big a deal just because Ivy came over?"

"I..." I started to speak.

But Ivy Winters meekly tugged on the corner of Chase's shirt. "Brother, don't blame her. It's all my fault..."

"I just loved the bag so much when I saw it. I didn't know this was your travel fund. How about... I give it back to you?"

Even as she said "give it back," she hugged the pink bag even tighter, as if terrified someone would snatch it away.

In that moment, my heart sank to rock bottom.

I looked at Chase Crawford's self-righteous face, at Morgan Crawford nodding in agreement, and then at Ivy Winters, hiding behind Chase, her eyes appearing to well with tears but actually concealing a glint of triumph.

The cloyingly sweet scent of mango filled the room, mingling with the cheap perfume wafting off Ivy, suffocating me.

I couldn't say another word.

I turned, walked back to my room, and gently closed the door.

Shutting out the sounds of their laughter, and with them, five wretched years of my life.

「In the middle of the night, the bedroom door was pushed open.」

Chase Crawford, reeking of alcohol mixed with the scent of mango and Ivy's cheap perfume, fumbled his way into bed and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

His hands were hot and restless, slipping inside my pajamas.

"Lia, don't be mad anymore..." he mumbled into my ear. "I know you were wronged today. I'll make it up to you..."

The nauseating cocktail of scents on him made my stomach churn.

I pushed him away, rolled over, and got out of bed.

"I don't feel well."

Chase's hands froze in mid-air. By the moonlight filtering through the window, I could see the patience instantly drain from his face, replaced by thick annoyance.

"What's wrong with you now? Ivy meant well. It's one thing not to appreciate it, but are you going to keep giving me this attitude?"

I was too tired to argue, filled only with exhaustion.

I leaned against the wall and said softly, "Chase, tomorrow is our fifth anniversary."

He froze.

I knew he had forgotten.

Just like he'd forgotten I was allergic to mangoes, and forgotten about our travel fund.

After a long silence, he hugged me again, his voice softening as if coaxing a child.

"I'm sorry, baby. I've just been so busy lately. I promise I'll cancel everything tomorrow and spend the day with you. I'll make it all up to you, okay?"

I didn't answer. I just got back into bed and turned my back to him.

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

「The next day, I still clung to a final shred of hope.」

I made a reservation at the restaurant where we had our first date, put on the dress he once said he liked, did my makeup perfectly, and sat at a table by the window, waiting quietly for him.

From seven o'clock until nine.

Waves of diners came and went. The glass of lemon water in front of me was refilled again and again.

My phone remained dead silent.

It wasn't until nine-thirty, just as the restaurant was about to close, that his long-overdue call finally came.

The moment I answered, his frantic voice came through: "Lia! Get to Metropolitan General Hospital, quick! Ivy has acute appendicitis and needs surgery. I can't leave!"

In that moment, my heart felt like it was being repeatedly sliced by a dull knife—a bloody, mangled mess, yet I couldn't shed a single tear.

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