I never expected that my love life would take such a shocking turn. When I went to check on my boyfriend, Jace, worried that he was too sick to even text me back, what I found shattered my trust and sent my world spinning. Days later, the last person I ever expected showed up at my door, and together, we started something that changed my life forever.
It was a crisp autumn afternoon when I sat alone in my small, cozy apartment, the pale sunlight weakly streaming through the windows. The air outside was cool, and the orange and red leaves seemed to mock my restlessness as they swirled in the wind. I stared at my phone, willing Jace to finally show up.
He hadn’t visited in days, claiming he was just tired, but something about his excuses didn’t sit right with me. I knew him better than that. Something felt off, and I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I wasn’t getting the full story.
Fiddling with the hem of my sweater, I tapped my foot anxiously against the hardwood floor. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to know what was going on. I grabbed my phone and dialed his number. The phone rang a few times before he finally picked up.
“Hello?” Jace answered, his voice low and groggy, like he had just woken up.
“Are you sleeping?” I asked, trying to hide the edge of concern in my voice.
“Yeah,” he said with a long pause. “Sorry I didn’t text you. I just fell asleep. I’m not feeling great—might have a fever or something.”
“Oh…” I replied softly, unsure of what else to say.
Just then, he coughed harshly into the phone, making me wince. “Look, I’ll text you later,” he muttered, his words rushed.
“Feel bet—” I started, but the line went dead before I could finish.
Frustration bubbled up inside me. If Jace was really sick, then why wasn’t he letting me take care of him? If anything, I should be the one helping him, not just waiting around. That’s what girlfriends did, right?
Without another thought, I grabbed my coat and stepped into the brisk autumn air, determined to check on him. The walk to the store was quick, the cold air biting at my cheeks, but I didn’t mind. My mind was too focused on Jace and what was going on.
I picked up fresh fruit, tea, and a box of throat lozenges, imagining how grateful he would be when I showed up at his door.
When I arrived at his building, I pressed the elevator button, adjusting the heavy bag on my arm. Normally, I would have taken the stairs, but not today. Today, I was on a mission.
The elevator hummed softly as it descended, and I tried to distract myself by humming along to a song stuck in my head. But when the doors slid open, my heart stopped.
There, in front of me, was Jace—his arms wrapped around a woman I didn’t recognize. Her face was pressed against his chest, and they were so close it made my stomach twist.
“Looks like you’re feeling better,” I said, my voice louder than I intended, slicing through the quiet hallway.
Jace’s head whipped toward me, his face draining of color. “Kate…” he stammered, his arms falling away from the woman. He stepped toward me, hand outstretched like he could somehow fix things. “I can explain.”
“Don’t,” I said, cutting him off. “Just don’t. If you take one more step or say one more word, I swear I’ll make you regret it.” Without another word, I hurled the bag of groceries at him. The fruit scattered across the floor, and I didn’t wait for his reaction.
My heart pounded with anger and disgust as I turned and walked away. Jace didn’t call after me, didn’t try to stop me, and for that, I was glad. He wasn’t worth it anymore. Not a single ounce of my energy was worth giving to him.
The days that followed dragged on, each one feeling longer than the last. Jace didn’t bother calling, texting, or even sending a pathetic apology. No “I’m sorry,” no “I messed up,” not even a simple, “I’m a jerk, and I don’t deserve you.” Was that too much to ask for?
It gnawed at me, this unfinished business. How could I move on when he still lingered in my life like a shadow I couldn’t shake? I needed closure. I needed to face him one last time.
So, I texted him, my fingers trembling with anger. I waited, heart pounding, and a few minutes later, his response appeared on the screen.
@Jace:
Let’s meet tonight at 6 p.m., at our café.
Our café. The place where we had our first date. The nerve. But I agreed, if only to finally get the closure I needed.
At 6 p.m., I sat in the corner booth, the one we always chose. The familiar smell of coffee and pastries filled the air, but it didn’t bring me any comfort. It only reminded me of the lies, the betrayal, and the pain.
Every time the door opened, I glanced up, expecting to see him. But Jace didn’t show.
By 7 p.m., I was tapping my foot under the table, staring at the cold tea I hadn’t touched. By 8 p.m., I was furious. Just as I was about to leave, my phone buzzed.
@Jace:
I can’t come. I can’t stand seeing you so sad like this.
I stared at the screen, stunned. What did that even mean? He couldn’t stand seeing me? He was the one who cheated, yet he was acting like the victim. The anger bubbled up inside me, threatening to boil over.
When I finally got home, I was seething. I stomped up the stairs, muttering under my breath.
Then, as I rounded the corner to my apartment, I froze. There she was. The woman from the elevator. She was standing outside my door, looking nervous, like she had been waiting for me.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” I shouted, my voice echoing down the hallway. I couldn’t believe the nerve of her, showing up at my doorstep.
“I want to talk to you,” she said, her voice calm but uncertain. “I feel like I owe you… more than just a conversation.”
I crossed my arms tightly and glared at her. “You’re a few hours late,” I snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with that jerk. You can have him.”
But then she said something that stopped me cold. “That’s the thing—I don’t want him either.”
Her words hung in the air, and I felt a surge of confusion mixed with curiosity. She continued, “I finally realized what he’s really like, and I wanted to talk to someone who understands.”
I hesitated. This was insane, right? But something about her sincerity made me pause.
With a deep sigh, I turned and unlocked my door. “Fine. Come in,” I said, pushing the door open and stepping aside.
As she entered, I asked, “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Ashley,” she said softly, her eyes darting to the floor.
“Kate,” I replied, introducing myself reluctantly.
“I know,” she admitted, guilt written all over her face.
I motioned toward the kitchen. “Come on,” I said. “I’d offer you tea, but I think this calls for something stronger.” I grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter and set it down.
Ashley sat at the table, folding her hands nervously. “You didn’t know about me,” she began, her voice shaky. “But I knew about you. Jace told me he had a girlfriend, but he said you were awful to him. He claimed you ignored him, flirted with other men, made him feel worthless.”
“What the—?!” I exploded, unable to contain my fury. “That’s exactly what he did to me!”
Ashley nodded slowly. “I see that now, after what happened when you caught us. But back then, I believed him. I thought he was going to leave you and be with me.”
“Looks like the jerk fooled both of us,” I muttered bitterly, pouring the wine.
Ashley took a deep breath. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want him to get away with it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you suggesting?”
A sly grin spread across Ashley’s face. “Revenge,” she said simply. “You know how much of a homophobe Jace is?”
The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. The idea took root in my mind, and despite everything, I found myself intrigued.
And that’s how it all started.
Ashley and I wasted no time setting our plan into motion. We created fake dating profiles for Jace on popular websites, carefully crafting his “interests” and uploading photos from his social media. We sent flirty messages to men, pretending to be him.
“I’m looking for someone special,” we wrote, ending with a winking emoji. We set up meetups at his apartment, knowing he’d be home. We even posted his phone number with the tagline: “Night owl? Call me between 2 and 4 a.m. for some fun.”
The texts and calls flooded in. “Who are these people?” “Why won’t my phone stop ringing?” His desperation fueled us to keep going.
Then, we went bigger. We found ad space in the busiest parts of town and designed a billboard featuring Jace’s smiling face, with the caption: “Looking for a man to support and cherish.”
When that first billboard went up, we high-fived each other, imagining his reaction. We weren’t done yet.
Finally, we gave Jace an ultimatum. When he begged us to stop, we demanded one last thing—a vacation for us both. After the money hit my account, I sent him one last message.
@Me:
Oops, we forgot the passwords to the accounts, and the billboards are prepaid for two months. 🙂
We blocked his number, leaving him with nothing but the chaos we had created.
And with that, Ashley and I turned our attention to something far more exciting—our trip to Spain. The sun was bright, the air warm, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore felt like music to my ears.
We sat on the beach, sipping sangria, and Ashley turned to me with a grin. “Best team effort ever,” she said, raising her glass.
I smiled, knowing she was right.
I had lost a terrible boyfriend, but I had gained one hell of a friend. Revenge had never tasted so sweet.
