Caleb Reed has a tongue like a scalpel. I've always been on the curvier side, and when the sample for a photoshoot—a delicate white lace dress—arrived from the online boutique, he'd smirked. "Are you seriously going to humiliate yourself in that? Anyone who sees you will think a sausage is trying to play dress-up." I've lost count of the number of times Caleb's words have broken me, but I always convinced myself to let it go. He was devastatingly handsome and outrageously generous, and I forced myself to believe that was enough. Until the incident with the freshman from the debate society, Chloe. The night before the finals, she leaked our entire case file to the opposing team. Normally, this is the kind of catastrophic incompetence that would have had Caleb sneering, asking if her brain was just for decoration. But this time, all he did was toss her a pack of tissues and turn his face away. "What are you crying for? It's ugly." 1 Chloe's sobs were a theatrical performance. "I'm so sorry," she wailed. "It's all my fault. Because of my mistake, everyone's disqualified!" Five minutes earlier, the tournament organizers had officially booted us from the competition. Months of grueling preparation, all of it gone before we even had a chance to step on stage. The air in the hotel hallway was thick with fury. "A mistake?" one of our teammates shot back. "You call that a mistake? Who 'accidentally' prints out a dozen copies of our entire strategy and leaves it neatly stacked in front of our opponent's hotel room?" Chloe's voice hitched. "I'm sorry… I must have mixed up the room numbers…" That just fanned the flames. "Our rooms are all next to each other! You're telling me you don't remember where we are, or even where you are staying?" Another teammate piled on. "Just stop. You could cry a river and it wouldn't be enough to fill that empty head of yours." Caleb, who had been leaning against the wall in silence, finally pushed himself off with a sharp sigh. "Dude, your breath stinks," he said to the guy. "Seriously? You think ganging up on a freshman makes you look tough?" A stunned silence fell over the group. Caleb wasn't just our star first-chair debater; he was the undisputed king of verbal evisceration. Under any other circumstance, a screw-up this colossal, this blatantly intentional, would have had Caleb coldly dissecting the person's entire genetic lineage. He would've asked, with genuine curiosity, if their parents were siblings. But this time, he just fished a pack of tissues from his pocket, tossed it at Chloe's feet, and averted his gaze. "It's done. Crying isn't going to change anything." Watching him, my heart pricked, a sharp, thin sting. It felt deeply, uncomfortably wrong. Caleb was sharp-tongued and allergic to comfort. I thought back to the countless times he'd made me cry. He'd stand there, hands shoved in his pockets, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. "Are you done yet? It was a minor thing. How long are you going to drag this out?" Everyone was now looking at me, the team president, waiting for a verdict. I pushed down the strange, sour feeling in my gut and focused on Chloe. "Whether it was intentional or not, your actions have consequences for the entire team. You're no longer a member of the debate society. Don't come to any future meetings or events." Her eyes widened, fresh tears spilling over. "Claire, I know you've never liked me, but everyone makes mistakes! Are you really going to take away my chance to pursue my passion over one little slip-up?" A teammate scoffed. "What passion? You can barely string a sentence together! The only reason you ever got to speak was because Claire gave you her own talking points, and even then you stammered through them and dragged the whole team down!" "And this wasn't a 'little slip-up'!" another added. "This was the championship tournament! This was everything! How can you call that a small thing?" Before Chloe could answer, Caleb's voice cut through the air, low and dangerous. "Enough." He turned his gaze on me. "Claire, you're the president, for Christ's sake. Are you just going to stand there and watch your team bully a freshman?" He raked his eyes over me, a dismissive, head-to-toe scan. Then, he let the final words drop, soft and lethal. "Oh, right. I forgot. You're leading the charge." My throat felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. The sudden, suffocating pressure stole my voice. Thankfully, someone else spoke up for me. "What are you talking about, man? How are we bullying her?" "Claire just kicked her off the team. She's not pressing charges or getting her expelled. How does that make her the ringleader?" Chloe sniffled, grabbing the sleeve of Caleb's jacket. "Caleb, it's okay. I know you're just trying to stand up for me, but…" She shot a look at me, as if I were some kind of monster, and lowered her head. Her voice was laced with a tragic whisper. "Maybe it's just because Claire really doesn't like me." 2 The night ended with everyone scattering in anger and disgust. Before leaving, Caleb took Chloe's hand. He glanced back at me, his expression cold as ice. "You're being petty, Claire. I hope you take a good, long look at yourself." I watched their retreating figures, a profound sense of confusion washing over me. What did I do wrong? The question echoed in my mind as I walked, zombie-like, back to the apartment Caleb and I shared. Staring at the flawlessly polished floors, a bitter thought surfaced. Caleb was a notorious neat freak, a germaphobe who practically had a "Do Not Touch" sign tattooed on his forehead. He didn't just keep strangers at a distance; sometimes, even I, his girlfriend, was treated like a contaminant. Unless he initiated it, any attempt I made to touch him was met with a cold recoil. If I tried to hold his hand, he'd pull away. If I did what Chloe just did—tug on his sleeve—he would, without fail, take off the shirt right in front of me and toss it into the trash like it was radioactive waste. I remember once, I was working a late shift at a greasy spoon diner to make extra cash. A couple of drunk guys started harassing me. I called Caleb from the police station, crying, begging him to come get me. When he finally walked in, his face a mask of annoyed indifference, the dam of my composure broke. I threw myself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. "You… you came," I wept. "Caleb, I was so scared." He let me hold him for a long moment, waiting until my sobs subsided. When I finally pulled back, he looked down at my swollen, tear-streaked face. I thought, just for a second, that even he would offer a word of comfort in a situation like this. But all he said, his lips barely moving, was, "Claire. Do you have any idea how disgusting you are right now, clinging to me like this?" The memory made fresh tears trace paths down my cheeks. Just then, the front door opened. It was Caleb. Our eyes met before I had a chance to wipe my face. He kicked off his shoes with an irritated flick of his foot and looked away with a sneer. "Unbelievable. Chloe gets torn apart by your whole team and she barely sheds a tear, but you, the instigator, are here crying your eyes out. That's rich." My voice was thick with emotion. "She sabotaged months of work for every single one of us. All I did was remove her from the team. Was that really so cruel?" I paused, the frustration that had been simmering all afternoon finally boiling over. "And you… you're the guy who practically has 'I can't stand idiots' tattooed on your forehead. Why were you so quick to jump to her defense today?" Caleb flinched, then his annoyance flared. "'Can't stand idiots'? Can you ever say anything without being dramatic, Claire? What's wrong with me not wanting to see a group of people tear a girl apart for making one mistake?" I raised a hand to wipe my eyes, but the tears just came faster. "Chloe is a stranger. You can't bear to see her cry." My voice cracked. "But what about me? I'm your girlfriend. Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you defend the person who screwed me over?" He let out a cold laugh. "There it is again. Honestly, Claire, I'm impressed. You always find a way to get jealous over the most ridiculous things." Ridiculous jealousy? A laugh escaped my lips, but it was watery and broken. "You think this is just me being jealous? You think we were bullying her?" I took a shaky breath. "Did you forget that my scholarship doesn't cover everything? I was counting on that prize money for next semester's tuition. She didn't just ruin a competition for us, Caleb. For me, she ruined everything. And all I did was kick her off the team. Was that really so unforgivable?" He was unmoved. "And now you're playing the victim. How predictable." He'd seen how broke I was. He'd seen me exhausted and humiliated at my part-time jobs. He knew I'd poured every ounce of my energy into winning that tournament to cover my expenses. And in his eyes, all of it was just an act. Me, playing the victim. All afternoon, I'd been torturing myself, wondering what I did wrong. Now I knew. My mistake was wasting three years of my life on a man like Caleb. I had cried for so long that when I pushed myself to my feet, the room spun. Caleb instinctively reached out to steady me, but then, as if remembering something, his hand froze in mid-air and he pulled it back, clenching his jaw. A desolate smile touched my lips. My voice was raw, numb from crying. "Think whatever you want." "Caleb, we're done. Let's break up." A flicker of disbelief crossed his face. "You're breaking up with me? Over something this small?" Then he scoffed. "Fine. You're the one who said it, Claire. Just don't come regretting it." "I won't," I said, my voice flat. I refused to waste another second of my life on a cold-hearted man who had never once seen me as an equal. "I'll get my things and be out as soon as possible. You…" Before I could finish, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, a cruel little smile playing on his lips, and answered, putting it on speaker. Chloe's delicate voice filled the silence. "Caleb? I was out for a run and I think I twisted my ankle. Can… can you come see me?" Caleb's eyes were locked on me. He smirked. "Sure. Send me your location. I'm on my way." He hung up and looked down at me, his expression imperious. "Let me make myself clear. I don't do second chances. If you apologize to Chloe, we can pretend tonight never happened. Otherwise…" I cut him off, meeting his gaze directly. "I did nothing wrong. Why would I apologize to her?" I held his stare. "Chloe's waiting. You should go." He scanned me one last time, then spat out through gritted teeth, "Fine. You're really something else, you know that?" Then he turned and slammed the door behind him.
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