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My Seven Ex's Novel Cover

My Seven Ex's

My Seven Ex’s tells the story of Vanya, a strong, intelligent woman whose journey through love becomes a painful path of betrayal, control, violence, and deception. Each man who entered her life appears different, promising something better, but leaving behind scars that would shape who she becomes. From her first love that disappears without explanation to men who manipulated, controlled, and destroy her trust, each relationship pulls her deeper into emotional and psychological survival. What begins as romance slowly turns dark, revealing that charm and promises often hide dangerous intentions. As Vanya moves through her relationships, betrayal comes in different forms disease, abandonment, violence, rape, manipulation, and financial exploitation, but fate of true love had another plans with the man she nearly never gave the chance to love her. What happens when the man you hated so much turned out to be the true one? The story builds through emotional tension, shocking twists, and dark revelations,
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Chapter 7

Elio vanished without any explanation.

At first, I waited.

I told myself he needed time, silence didn’t always mean abandonment, i checked my phone like people check locked doors over and over, even when they know nothing has changed. Each vibration sent my heart racing, and each quiet hour made it feel heavier.

Days passed, then weeks, then months, nothing with no apology, no closure and no goodbye.

Ava didn’t disappear, but she seemed smaller less present, less bold. She lingered around me like someone who knew she’d failed but didn’t know how to admit it. Sometimes she said sorry for things she never named, and other times, she watched me with guilt in her eyes and remained silent.

I stopped asking questions.

The truth crept in slowly and painfully: Elio wanted my body, not my future, and when I became complicated, when I became inconvenient, he left.

That realization didn’t shatter me all at once, it hollowed me out instead.

I still went to class, and still smiled when spoken to, laughed when it was expected, but inside, something had quieted, that part of me that believed affection meant safety.

My mother saw it before anyone else, she noticed me push food around my plate without eating, and saw me retreat to my room earlier than usual. She watched me sleep too much and still wake up tired.

One afternoon, I came home to music blasting in the living room, my mom was dancing, not seriously, just moving wildly, laughing at herself, spinning like she was sixteen instead of a woman with responsibilities and worries.

Mom? I asked, confused.

She grabbed my hands and pulled me into the room, “dance with me.

“I’m not in the mood, I said.

“That’s exactly why you should, she danced poorly on purpose, shaking her shoulders, stomping her feet, making faces until I couldn’t hold it in anymore, i laughed for real, surprised and loud.

“There,” she said, breathless. “Whatever’s heavy in your heart, don’t let it make you disappear, that advice hit me.

She didn’t know what I’d lost, but she knew I was losing myself.

The holidays came with too much free time and nowhere to put my thoughts. I needed something to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.

So I went looking for a job, i stopped at a snack shop downtown wasn’t hiring until it was.

I walked in with nervous energy, rehearsing what I’d say, the place smelled like sugar and coffee, warm and comforting. A man stood behind the counter, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

“We’re not hiring,” he said before I could speak.

“I know,” I replied quickly, “but I learn fast and reliable, and I really need the work.”

He studied me for a long moment, then sighed, “You’re early and that’s already a good sign.”

I started the next day.

Work helped, it gave my days shape again, customers didn’t care about my heartbreak, they only cared about their orders, and about service, It was simple and honest.

One Monday morning, I arrived earlier than usual, the city was still waking up, fog clinging to the streets like it wasn’t ready to let go. I unlocked the shop, turned on the lights, and tied my apron.

The bell above the door rang.

“Waiter!”

The voice carried confidence, the kind that expected attention.

I hurried out, “good morning, what can I...”

I stopped mid-sentence.

Our eyes met, he was tall, dark-skinned, and broad in a way that felt effortless, like he never had to try to be imposing. His eyes were blue striking against everything else about him, he looked expensive, not just rich, but also careless about it.

He smiled, slow and sure.

For a second, I forgot the words I’d practiced.

He extended his hand, “Hi, I’m Rye.”

The name felt sharp and smooth at the same time.

“Vanya,” I said, shaking his hand, his grip lingered longer than polite.

“Nice place,” he said, looking around like he was assessing more than the shop, “You open early.”

“I like to be prepared, I replied.

“I like that too, he said.

There was something dangerous in the way he said it not threatening, but deliberate, like a man used to getting his way without asking.

He ordered slowly, watching me the entire time, i should have felt uncomfortable, instead, I felt something stir interest, curiosity, a spark I hadn’t felt since before everything went wrong.

When I handed him his order, our fingers brushed, its was electric.

“See you around, Vanya,” he said, already walking away.

The bell chimed as he left.

I stood there longer than necessary, my heart beating too fast for a stranger, and for the first time in months, silence didn’t feel empty.

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