I broke up with my boyfriend of three years.

Everyone thought I'd be the first to apologize this time. That is, until I posted my brand new marriage certificate on Instagram.

He showed up at my door, crying and begging me to come back.


Lily, haven't you had enough of this drama? Jack, my boyfriend - or rather, ex-boyfriend - sat on the couch, his face a mask of impatience.

I looked at his irritated expression, a cold smirk playing on my lips.

I had caught him red-handed, dancing intimately with his childhood sweetheart at a bar. Yet he had the audacity to accuse me of making a fuss over nothing.

Fine, I thought. If he wanted drama, I'd give him a show.

He was nothing but a philandering dog, and I was sick of him!

"I've told you, Rose and I are just friends. You've already embarrassed me in front of my friends. What more do you want?" he said.

"Whatever. Think what you like," I replied.

His phone screen lit up, interrupting his tirade of accusations and complaints.

I watched him get up and head to the bathroom. I followed quietly, and sure enough, Rose's coy voice drifted out, "Jack, she's not giving you a hard time, is she?"

"Of course not," Jack replied, his voice unusually gentle and patient - a tone he never used with me.

I listened to Rose's giggles floating out of the bathroom as I started packing my things. Damn it, what a pair of cheaters.

As if I'd ever want him back!

I sent Jack a breakup text and blocked him. The conversation in the bathroom paused for a couple of seconds before resuming as if nothing had happened.

Huh, he always acted so confident around me.

I couldn't blame him entirely. After all, I had been madly in love with him since freshman year, willingly playing the role of his doormat.

All those years of washing his sports gear, buying him drinks and gifts - it was like pouring water into the Pacific Ocean.

Now, even when I suggested breaking up, he seemed completely indifferent.

The laughter continued in the bathroom as I quietly left the apartment with my suitcase, finally escaping this prison.

As soon as I got in my car, my phone exploded with notifications from the group chat.

Jack's buddies were tagging me relentlessly. "Lily, playing the runaway game again?"

"How many times has this been now?"

"If you ask me, you should grow a backbone. If you're leaving, don't come crawling back to Jack. Save yourself from another dramatic exit."

"Ha! As if she could ever let go of Jack."

Their mocking laughter hit me like a slap in the face.

I stared at the screen coldly, quickly typing out a reply, "As you and Jack wish, we're done for good. Goodbye."

I left the group immediately after sending the message.

Jack's friends had created this group chat specifically to mock me, though they had their own separate group for real communication.

Even though I knew their intentions, I had pathetically joined the group just to catch a glimpse of Jack's occasional messages.

Later, they added Rose to the group, and Jack's messages became more frequent. I found myself consumed by jealousy, desperately searching for any hint that he might love me in his messages.

Sadly, there were none.

Instead, his chats with Rose grew increasingly flirtatious, with no regard for my feelings whatsoever.

As my best friend would say, I had become obsessed, poisoned by my feelings for Jack.

Looking back now, I realize how ridiculous I had been.

Jack didn't love me. He was never gentle or caring towards me. He certainly never showed any concern or looked after me. He only called me when he needed something, and when he didn't, he couldn't even be bothered to say my name.

What did I ever see in such a horrible guy?

Did I admire his ability to eat, poop, and cause trouble?




I had a small, rundown apartment in the suburbs that my parents had left me. I hadn't lived there for years, but now it was my only refuge.

I spent three hours cleaning every nook and cranny until I was nearly exhausted. After a shower, I noticed a missed call on my phone.

My heart skipped a beat. Could it be Jack?

But when I unlocked the screen, I saw it was from my best friend, Samantha. I couldn't help but laugh bitterly at myself.

Old habits die hard, I guess. I was still foolishly hoping for his call, while he was probably having a great time with Rose.