I went back to his place last week. I wanted to talk, to see if we could fix things, maybe get back together. I pushed the door open, ready to apologize. And I walked in on him leaning down, kissing another girl. Not just any girl. It was Chloe, my college roommate of four years. She was wearing my favorite silk nightgown. Just last night, in our shared apartment, she had suddenly announced she was moving out. She told me that the guy she’d been chasing forever had finally accepted her confession. He wanted her to move in immediately. Like an idiot, I congratulated her. I was genuinely happy she finally got what she wanted. How was I supposed to know her "dream guy" was my ex-boyfriend, Caleb Davis? We’d only been broken up for a week. Talk about a seamless transition. 1 I stood in the doorway, paralyzed with awkwardness. Chloe saw me first. She shrieked, breaking the kiss. "Maya?!" Caleb turned slowly. When our eyes met, there was a flash of surprise in his, but it was quickly replaced by an icy, detached calm. He adjusted his shirt, unfazed, and walked toward me. He stopped just inches away, looking down at me. "What do you want?" he asked. I stared at his collarbone. There was a bright red hickey right there. It was so vivid it hurt to look at. It felt like someone had shoved a fistful of cotton into my lungs. I couldn't breathe. The words I’d practiced—about begging for another chance—died in my throat. I couldn’t have spoken if I tried. Chloe walked over, offering a weak, slightly apologetic smile. "I didn't bring my overnight bag," she said, gesturing to the silk clinging to her body. "I just borrowed your nightgown. Hope you don't mind." My head was buzzing. It felt like an explosive device had gone off in my ears. Ignoring my silence, she rushed to defend herself. "Maya, don't get the wrong idea. Caleb and I only started talking after you guys broke up." Watching her desperation to clear her name, I felt like a clown. It took me forever to find a logical lie to answer Caleb's question. "I still have stuff here," I managed to choke out. "I came to get it." Caleb was silent for a moment, his face a perfect mask of indifference. "Go ahead." It was only when I went further inside that I realized what that silence meant. The potted succulent I’d placed on the windowsill was gone. In the bathroom, our matching couples’ toothbrushes had been replaced with a completely different set. The curtains, the bedsheets, the duvet cover—they had all been changed to Chloe’s favorite colors. Even the photo on the bedside table—the one of Caleb and me when we were kids—was gone. In its place was a framed photo of just Chloe. There was nothing for me to pack. This little apartment, the one Caleb and I had decorated together— It was completely scrubbed clean of me. One week. It had only been one week. Everything I owned had been thrown into a single duffel bag and dumped unceremoniously in the corner of the small balcony. Along with my dog. 2 It was a sticky-hot midsummer night. The air was thick and humid, making it hard to catch my breath. I squatted on the cluttered balcony, looking at Lucky, my dog, slumped sadly inside his travel crate. Lucky was a stray Caleb and I had rescued on our first anniversary. We named him Lucky because we felt lucky to have found each other that day. Back then, Caleb had wrapped his arms around me tightly, whispering and smirk, "Every time you call his name, I want you to remember how I feel about you." Everything was different now. "Lucky," I whispered. His ears twitched, then stood straight up. He saw it was me and started whining excitedly, ready to jump all over me like he always did. Then he realized he was trapped in the crate and settled down, just looking at me and wagging his tail. My eyes burned, uncontrolled. The tidal wave of grief I’d been suppressing finally broke over me. I stormed back into the living room. "I don't care about the other stuff," I said, my voice shaking. "But Lucky was abused before we got him. He’s terrified of being crated alone—" "You know the situation," Caleb interrupted. He didn’t look at me; he just glanced at Chloe. His tone was perfectly flat. "She’s deathly afraid of dogs." The rest of my words died in my throat. ...She’s afraid of dogs. So that was the reason. A dull, throbbing ache began to spread through my entire body. 3 I had first noticed something off between Caleb and Chloe about two months ago. Graduation was approaching. He had just accepted a great job offer and was incredibly busy. If I texted him at night, I wouldn't get a reply until morning. When I called, he’d hang up after a few sentences. "Oh, stop overthinking it. He’s just stressed with finals and the new job," Chloe had told me then, comforting me as I sat on my bed feeling miserable. On Valentine's Day, Chloe came home and handed me two movie tickets. I wanted to fix things with Caleb, so I invited him out. Halfway through the movie, he seemed completely detached, constantly checking his phone. "Maya, I have to take this call outside. It's about a group project. Be right back." Before I could even answer, he grabbed his jacket and hurried out. Caleb never came back. Not even after the credits rolled. I walked out with the crowd, and I saw him leaning against the far wall of the lobby, waiting. He was looking down, deep in thought. I noticed something then. His button-down shirt was fastened wrong. The top two buttons were in the wrong holes, creating a bunch in the fabric. When he saw me, he just offered a terse, "Project call went long. I lost track of time." "What kind of project takes an entire movie to discuss?" I asked. What was his reply? He didn't even bother to make up a convincing lie. "If you’re going to be paranoid, I can’t help you." Back in our shared apartment, I was scrolling through social media, my heart sinking. And there it was. Chloe’s latest post. A photo of two cups of milk tea, half-drunk. And two movie stubs. No text, just a heart emoji. The apartment was silent. I could hear Chloe’s shallow breathing from the other room. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I texted her. Were you at the theater across the street from the one on Main Street tonight? Chloe: Yeah. Why? Maya: Were you with the guy you like? Chloe was silent for a long time. Then: Yeah. Later that week, I went for a walk on the campus quad with Caleb. I was walking ahead of him, wrapped in silence. Caleb, sensing my mood, caught up to grab my hand. "What's wrong?" I only said one thing. "Chloe was at that same movie theater the other night." The air between us went still. But only for a second. Caleb tightened his grip on my hand. "Maya, that’s just a coincidence." I looked into his eyes. They seemed so sincere, so apologetic. I didn't pull my hand away. We’d been together for so long. We had always assumed we were each other’s futures. I shouldn't doubt him based on a hunch. Besides, I knew Chloe had had a massive crush on a guy for four years. I’d seen his photo. She hadn’t even dated anyone else, just waiting for him. She wouldn't be with Caleb. There’s no way. Probably. 4 Maybe it was my imagination, but Caleb was different after that day. Cold. Distant. As finals approached, Caleb got even busier. We hadn't seen each other in a week. Finally, on Caleb's birthday, I baked a cake from scratch and walked to the off-campus house he shared with some other guys. I pushed the door open, expecting a small surprise for him. I walked in to find a huge party. Caleb was front and center, about to cut the cake. Chloe was right next to him. She was practically tucked into his armpit. Her hand was resting on top of his, both of them holding the knife handle, ready to slice downward. The room went dead silent. Everyone was staring at me. Caleb looked up. His expression was blank. He didn’t remove his hand from hers. "Go on," he said to her, totally ignoring me. But Chloe pulled her hand back, giving me a complicated, shadowed look. Someone from Caleb's group quickly jumped in to diffuse the tension with a weak lie. "Since it’s also Chloe’s birthday today, we thought we’d save money and have them cut one cake together. Don't worry about it!" I listened to his poor attempt to hide the truth, and I felt my stomach drop, inch by inch. How could I not worry about it? All the exhaustion, the insecurity, the suspicions of the last few weeks—seeing them like that, everything coalesced into solid, painful proof. After the party, Caleb and I got into a screaming match. Or rather, I single-handedly went into hysterics while he stood there like a statue. "I’m your girlfriend! Why did you throw a birthday party and not invite me?" "You're too busy? You have time to cut a cake with Chloe, but you can't text me back for hours?" ...Finally, my voice was choking up. "Caleb, do you even still want to be with me?" He didn’t answer. The familiar silence settled back in. I grabbed the back of a chair, my strength failing. I sank to the floor, my face buried in my knees, crying silently. This was the Caleb who used to tell me every little thing. The Caleb who promised to marry me right after graduation. The Caleb who said he’d never let me feel insecure. That Caleb finally had nothing to say to me. In a moment of blind pain, I said it. "I’m done. Let's break up." He didn't even flinch. He just nodded coldly. "If that’s what you want." 5 On the fifth day after we broke up, one of Caleb's friends tried to act as a mediator. "We just showed up at Caleb's house to surprise him on his birthday, Maya. He really didn’t know we were all going to be there." "Okay, maybe he was a little careless, I'll admit that. But he was drowning in finals and trying to secure that job. Don’t you think you were being a little high-maintenance? Even in a relationship, people need some space, right?" Chloe was equally dismissive. "Maya, I told you I have someone I like! I showed you his picture! Caleb is your boyfriend. How could I ever try to take him from you?" Their logical explanations ate at me. I started to wonder if I was being high-maintenance, if I’d acted impulsively. I made up my mind to talk to Caleb one more time. And I walked in on them kissing. We’d only been broken up for a week, and he had already accepted her confession. Seamless. Zero-day-gap transition. 6 I took Lucky home with me that night. My dorm didn't allow pets, so I had to temporarily set him up at my parents’ house. That night, curled in my bed, all I could see was them kissing. My brain was betraying me, visualizing even more intimate details. My head pounded, a tight, tense feeling at the base of my skull. I felt sick. I ended up posting a question on an anonymous forum about "zero-day transitions," venting all the pain and confusion I’d been holding inside. I didn’t expect to wake up to a viral thread. 99+ notifications. Top comment: Why did he agree to the breakup instantly? Reply: I agree. In that short a timeframe, it’s never a 'seamless transition.' The third party was just waiting, and the breakup was the perfect excuse to legitimize the affair. The internet investigators quickly got to work. Using my location tags and a few landmarks I had mentioned, they tracked down our university. They actually managed to figure out the people involved were me, Caleb, and Chloe. The thread exploded. Tons of our classmates were weighing in. "Chloe seemed so innocent. I can’t believe she’s a homewrecker. Gross." "I know the ex. Caleb Davis. He’s the top student in the math department. Definitely a hottie with a great voice. No wonder she stole him..." "Is anyone else noticing that Maya said he had his shirt buttons fastened wrong after the movie? What was he hiding..." I read through the flood of comments, a complex mix of emotions washing over me. My phone was vibrating constantly. Missed calls. Thousands of texts. They were all from Caleb. I decided to just turn my phone off. I went downstairs to grab a coffee. From across the street, I saw Caleb standing at the entrance to my apartment complex. When he saw me come out, he marched over, his face rigid with a cold command. "Take the post down. Now." 7 Thinking about those anonymous comments, I couldn’t help but ask. "When did it really start between you two?" "The movie night? Or even earlier?" Caleb stared at me, his face devoid of emotion. "Is discussing that even useful now, Maya?" He didn't answer directly, but he didn't deny it, either. I had my answer. I actually wanted to laugh. Laugh at myself, laugh at him. "Caleb, if you fell out of love with me, you could have just said so. I wouldn't have chased you. But why this—" "I’m telling you one last time," he cut in, his voice dropping an octave, a thin thread of threat in his tone. "Letting this escalate is not going to do you any favors. Take. The. Post. Down." I looked at him silently, a wave of profound displacement washing over me. Was this the same Caleb I had known my entire life? When we were kids, my family wasn't doing well. A girl in my class didn't like me and accused me of stealing from her. She yanked my hair and took a hair clip she’d "searched" from my backpack—a little butterfly clip—and shoved it into my hand. "You've probably never even had anything this nice," she’d sneered. "Stealing a cheap hair clip. Your family must be so poor." At the time, everyone believed her. Everyone was calling me a thief. Only Caleb stood up. He calmly told the teacher he’d seen the girl put the clip in my bag herself. Because of that day, we started getting closer. But now, this cold, ruthless, and dangerous Caleb was standing in front of me. He didn't even have the patience to let me finish a single sentence. The person he wanted to protect... it wasn't me anymore. The wave of desolation and bitterness was almost enough to break me. Finally, I whispered, "No, I won’t take it down," and ran away. That evening, when I went downstairs to pick up a food delivery, I could feel people staring. "Birds of a feather, right? Neither of them are clean." "She probably just wants the attention." I had a bad feeling about this. I went upstairs and turned my phone on. Sure enough, someone had posted an anonymous reply to my original thread—complete with "proof." Photo Evidence: A year ago, a 'certain person' was already hooking up with another guy behind her boyfriend's back! The post went into vivid detail, describing how I had cheated on Caleb, and that my entire story now was just a play for pity and a way to destroy my ex’s reputation. Her "evidence" was far more convincing than mine. She had photos. In the photos, a tall, striking guy and I were standing in front of a hotel entrance. I was holding his arm, and his hand was around my waist, pulling me in. It was incredibly intimate. The lighting was dim, but you could see the guy looking down at me, his face close to mine. This guy was definitely not Caleb. 8 Probably because my original post had so much traffic, this reply went viral instantly. A portion of the commenters did a complete 1/80, using the same slurs they’d used for Chloe and aiming them at me, only worse. Then, a new comment got upvoted to the top. Wait a minute. Isn't that Liam Carter, the 'untouchable' guy from A&T University? Below it were top-voted replies: "No way! Why would a guy like Liam even look at her?" "I think he has a girlfriend. She's a humanities major..." "Tsk. So, Maya was a homewrecker herself? The cheater is crying about being cheated on!" ... I fought back my rage and dialed Chloe's number. "You posted that, didn't you?" Chloe giggled on the other end. "So what if I did?" "Maya, you started this. I’m just hitting back." I wanted to speak, but a quiet gasp from her interrupted me. "Hold on, I’m on a call," Chloe giggled, her voice dropping. Caleb's voice came through, sounding completely distracted. "What’s there to talk about with her?" Then the line went dead. But not before I heard their breathing getting heavy, followed by the soft, distinct sound of a zipper. I hung up violently. My hand was shaking so badly I couldn’t hold the phone. When I finally caught my breath, I sent a text to a number I hadn't used in months. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I will fix it. I’m incredibly sorry. I waited for several minutes before I got a reply. It’s fine. Just two words. I felt a small release of pressure in my chest. I wasn't actually close to Liam Carter. For him, this was completely unwarranted drama. Liam was a friend of my younger cousin. Six months ago, my cousin had Liam come to town to hang out, and I had helped them book a hotel room. At the time, I was looking down at my phone, replying to a message, and almost walked right into traffic. Liam had grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back, checking if I was okay. Chloe had been there that day. She must have secretly taken the photos. I felt like the world was a truly bizarre place. Even after my cousin, Liam, and I all posted explanations and even shared the original hotel booking information, the commenters were having none of it. Maybe they didn't want the truth. They wanted the spectacle. They wanted a definitive "who wins" outcome. My life was undeniably affected. Walking around campus, I could feel the stares. That's when Chloe sent me a text. She wanted to meet and talk, face-to-face. 9 My cousin knew I had a soft heart and was worried I wouldn't be able to handle her alone. He offered to come, but I refused. I chose a coffee shop for the meeting. When I arrived, Chloe and Caleb were already sitting in a booth. "Oh, look, Maya’s here." I ignored Chloe. I walked over and sat down, a wall of silence. I could feel a cold, piercing gaze on me, but I stared straight at Chloe. "What did you want to talk about?" "Talk?" Chloe covered her mouth, her laugh exaggerated. "You aren't exactly in a position to talk terms with me, honey." I was so angry I laughed. "Chloe, the 'guy you liked' for four years... it was Caleb, wasn't it? You were with him the entire time. You were lying to me." "Guilty," she said, practically beaming. "I fell for Caleb on the first day of freshman year." I tightened my fists under the table. "That time at the movie theater, when Caleb left, did he go to your screen—" "No." I was confused. "We went to the bathroom," Chloe said, drawing out the words with a slow, toxic sweetness. "Enough!" I cut her off. I did not want to hear another word about that from her. Even though I’d suspected it, hearing it confirmed still cut like a knife. "Caleb..." She was saying it to me, but I didn't hear a shred of remorse in her voice. "I can take down the post I made about you and Liam." "But you... you must take your post down and publicly apologize to me." "Never!" I was shaking. Chloe suddenly slid a stack of photos across the table. "You won't take down the post, you won't publicly apologize—" But the rest of her sentence was lost to me. The moment I saw the photos, my mind went completely blank. "How do you have these photos..." "How do you know..." I stared at the images, my brain completely offline, memory fragments flashing back to that time. After Caleb had stood up for me and proven the girl had framed me for stealing the hair clip, the girl’s group had started targeting me. She had an older brother who was in a gang at a different high school. Most people were too afraid to cross him. Caleb always used to wear long sleeves and long pants, even in summer, and always wore a face mask. When I found out he had injuries, he never said a word, just let me put ointment on him. I used to cry while applying the medication. He would be the one awkwardly comforting me, holding back his own pain. "I'm fine. Really. Stop crying. It doesn't even hurt." Then one day, I was walking down an alleyway and saw him. He was on the ground, and the girl’s brother had his boot on Caleb's hand, pressing his fingers into the asphalt. I realized then what he had been enduring for weeks. I hadn’t even stopped to think. I just rushed over, trying to push the guy’s leg off, begging them to stop hurting Caleb. I warned them the school security was coming. Then he grabbed my face in his powerful, calloused hand. He clearly didn't believe me. He stared at me with a playful, dangerous grin. "School security? Sounds impressive. Looks like we can't wait that long. But if you give me something to remember you by, I might let him go." I fought him with everything I had, but it was useless. The tears were streaming down my face. Caleb was lying on the ground, unconscious. ... Later, Caleb had somehow managed to get the photos back. He’d held me so tightly, his eyes red and raw, and whispered, "I am never going to let anyone hurt you again." ... But how did Chloe have these photos? How could she possibly know about this? "How do you know?" Chloe's voice was neither high nor low, but it felt like a needle driving straight into my heart. "Haven't you already guessed?" My head was buzzing violently. I turned to look at Caleb. He averted his gaze. 9 (Continued) I went completely still. I could only manage to whisper, "Why..." You told me you would never let anyone hurt me again. Caleb’s face instantly drained of color. He grabbed Chloe's wrist. "We said we’d just make her take the post down. Why did you bring these photos out?" "...Well, she said she wouldn't do it! Weren’t you listening?" Chloe tried to pull her hand back, but he held her tightly. She looked at him with a look of pure, toxic betrayal. "Caleb, you are actually crazy. You are the one who told me this whole story. Are you seriously feeling sorry for her now?" Caleb went still. After a long silence, he slowly, stiffly, turned to look at me. His Adam's apple bobbed. "Maya, believe me, I didn't think she would—" I grabbed the cup of hot coffee in front of me and threw it directly into his face. There was a muffled thud as the heavy ceramic hit his temple. Bright red blood mixed with the thick coffee, streaming down his forehead, instantly soaking half his face. Caleb didn’t even seem to feel the pain. He just stared at me, dumbfounded. In his eyes, I saw my own reflection. I saw a monster. "Caleb, you are actually sickening." That memory was something I was too terrified to even dream about. For years, I would start shaking at the mere sight of a hair clip. I was beginning to wonder if Caleb had ever actually liked me. If he had, how could he have used that as a talking point with another girl? ... We were making such a scene that the other customers were beginning to whisper. "That girl looks familiar..." "Isn't that Maya Si? The one who stole another girl's boyfriend and then got cheated on herself?" "Yes, yes, yes! I saw that photo." Several people pulled out their phones, pointing them at me, ready to record. Caleb suddenly roared, "What are you recording?!" The customers flinched and quickly put their phones away and hurried out. I stared at Chloe. "I am not taking the post down. And I am not apologizing to you." Chloe was stunned. "Aren't you afraid that—" I pulled my phone out from where it had been resting face-down on the table. The screen showed an active recording. I pressed stop and saved the file, clenching the phone in my hand. "You can spread those photos all you want," I said, my voice dead calm. "But the moment you do, that is a crime. I will call the police, and I will hand them this recording of you two using them to blackmail me." Chloe’s face went bone-white. It took her several seconds to find her voice. "Are you really not afraid of people seeing those photos?" I was silent for a moment. "At the time, I was too young. When I was bullied, I just silently endured it. I was too terrified to tell anyone." "I was afraid of worrying my parents, afraid of the gossip, afraid of seeing that pity in people’s eyes." "But when I really think about it, what do I have to be afraid of?" "It wasn't my fault that I was framed. It wasn't my fault that a monster took those photos. Even my past self, the one who was too terrified to call the police, wasn’t at fault." "The fault lies with the bullies. The fault lies with the heartless bystanders who tell jokes. And the fault lies with you two, for using those photos to threaten me." Chloe’s face was now a complete mask of hatred. "And," I continued, "your attempt to blackmail me is also illegal. This recording is all I need. I can go to the police right now." "Graduation is coming up. I assume you don't want to be expelled." Chloe stared at me. "What do you want?" I didn't hesitate. "First, give me the photos, all of them. Second, take down the post about me and Liam Carter. Third, tell the actual truth, and publicly apologize to Liam and to me." Before Chloe could speak, Caleb quickly said, "Fine." His lips were trembling, his eyes filled with a complex storm of emotions. "I’m sorry, Maya." For the next half hour, I watched Chloe pull out her phone, delete the post, and then type out a public apology. The new post went viral instantly. "I knew there was a plot twist!" "A homewrecker is a homewrecker. She stole the guy, and she was good at making up rumors." "Tsk. Maya seems kinda pitiful." ... I gathered the stack of photos from the table. "Is this all?" "That’s everything." Caleb’s voice was barely a whisper. "Maya, you don't need to be so defensive around me." I didn't answer him. I packed the photos into my bag, turned around, and walked out of the coffee shop. Behind me, Caleb was calling my name, but I didn't look back. I walked out of the coffee shop and called my cousin. I just told him it was all fixed. I didn't mention the photos. After the call, I stood on the street corner for a moment, just letting the desolation wash over me. When I finally caught my breath and was about to call an Uber, a figure walked out of the coffee shop. It was Liam Carter. We both froze for a second. Liam nodded at me. "Maya."
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