After We Broke Up, I Changed My Ex’s Sheets

Summary

Three years after we broke up.

Dante and I met again in the glittering lobby of a five-star hotel. I was working the front desk. He was checking into the presidential suite with a woman on his arm.

That night, I received three calls from his room.

The first time, he said, “The sheets need changing.”

I had housekeeping handle it.

Two hours later, he called again, demanding another change of sheets.

I complied.

At two in the morning, his third call came through. I cut him off before he could speak, my voice a mask of polite refusal.