I went to my ex-boyfriend's apartment, ready to beg him to take me back. It had only been a week since we’d broken up. I pushed the door open and found him leaning down, kissing someone else. The girl was wearing my silk nightgown. And she wasn't just anyone. It was Iris. My roommate for all four years of college. Just last night, back in our dorm room, Iris mentioned she might be moving out. She said the guy she'd been crushing on for ages had finally asked her out and wanted her to move in with him. I was such an idiot. I’d actually congratulated her, happy that her dream was coming true. I never imagined that her new boyfriend was Joss, the man who had just broken my heart. He certainly didn't waste any time moving on. A seamless transition. I stood frozen in the doorway, the world tilting on its axis. Iris saw me first. "Ava?!" she gasped, her eyes wide. Joss looked up. The moment our gazes locked, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, unnerving calm. He straightened his shirt and walked toward me, his shadow falling over me as he looked down. "What do you want, Ava?" My eyes were glued to the raw, red mark on his collarbone. A knot formed in my chest, tight and suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs. The words I’d practiced, the pleas for a second chance, died on my lips. Iris came over, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I didn't have a nightgown, so I borrowed yours. Hope you don't mind." My head buzzed, a low hum of white noise. She saw my silence and rushed to explain, her voice a little too bright. "Ava, don't get the wrong idea. Joss and I only got together after you two broke up." Watching her scramble to prove her innocence, I felt like a fool. A clown in a tragedy of my own making. It took me a moment to find my voice, to cobble together a brittle excuse for being there. "I still have some things here," I said, my voice flat. "I came to pack." Joss was silent for a beat, his expression unreadable. "Fine. Come in." It was only when I stepped inside that I understood his silence. The succulent I’d potted with my own hands was gone from the windowsill. In the bathroom, our matching toothbrush holder had been replaced. The curtains, the bedsheets, the duvet cover—all of it had been swapped out for the muted grays and blues that Iris loved. Even the framed photo on the nightstand, a picture of Joss and me as kids, had been replaced with one of Iris. There was nothing for me to pack. This little apartment, the home we had built together, was no longer mine. It had been scrubbed clean of me. All in one week. One single week. Everything I owned had been crammed into a single suitcase and shoved in a corner of the balcony, gathering dust. My dog was out there, too. The hot, sticky air of the summer night wrapped around me, making it hard to breathe. I squatted on the cluttered balcony, staring at Ricky, who was slumped listlessly in his cage. We found Ricky, a stray, on the day of our first date. Joss had named him, wrapping his arms around me from behind and whispering with a wicked grin that every time I called the dog's name, I'd remember the thrill of our first kiss. But that was all gone now. "Ricky," I whispered. His floppy ears twitched and then shot up. When he saw it was me, he let out an excited little whine, his whole body wiggling as if he wanted to leap into my arms like he always did. Realizing he was trapped, he sat back down, his tail thumping against the cage in a frantic rhythm. A sharp sting hit the back of my nose, and the dam of emotions I’d been holding back finally broke. I stormed back into the living room. "I don't care about the other stuff, but you know Ricky was abused! He's terrified of being locked in a—" "I know," Joss cut me off, his voice dangerously quiet. He glanced at Iris. "She's scared of dogs." The rest of my words caught in my throat. She's scared of dogs. So that was it. A dull, heavy ache spread through my chest. The first time I sensed something was wrong between Joss and Iris was two months ago. With graduation looming, he was drowning in job offers and interviews, constantly busy. I’d send him a text at night and wouldn't get a reply until the next morning. Our phone calls became brutally short. "He's just stressed with graduation, Ava. Don't overthink it," Iris would say, trying to comfort me as I moped around the dorm. On Valentine's Day, Iris gave me two movie tickets. Hoping to repair the growing rift between us, I asked Joss to go with me. Halfway through the film, he was clearly distracted, his eyes darting to his phone every few minutes. "Ava, I have to take a call. I'll be right back." He was gone before I could reply, grabbing his jacket and hurrying out of the theater. He never came back. After the movie ended, I saw him waiting for me in the crowded lobby, leaning against a wall with his head down, lost in thought. I noticed something odd—the top two buttons of his shirt, which were usually open, were fastened tightly to his throat. When he saw me, he offered a simple explanation. "Project call. Lost track of time." "What kind of project call lasts for an entire movie?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. How did he reply? He didn't even bother to lie convincingly. "If you're going to be suspicious, there's nothing I can do." Back in our dorm, I was scrolling aimlessly through my phone, my mind a turbulent mess, when I saw Iris's latest post. It was a picture of two half-finished coffees and a pair of ticket stubs. The caption was just a single heart emoji. The room was silent except for the soft sound of our breathing. But I felt like I was suffocating. "Was your movie in the theater next to mine?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Yeah," she said. "I'm not really into rom-coms." "Did you go with that guy you like?" Iris was quiet for a long time. Then, a small, knowing smile touched her lips. "I did." Later that night, we were walking across the campus green. I walked ahead, wrapped in a cold silence. Joss sensed my mood and reached for my hand. "What's wrong?" I said only one thing. "Iris was at the same movie theater tonight." The air between us went still. But only for a second. He tightened his grip on my hand. "Ava, it was just a coincidence." I looked into his eyes, saw the sincerity and apology swimming there, and I couldn't bring myself to pull away. We had been together for so long; we were supposed to be each other's future. I couldn't let a few suspicions poison everything we had. Besides, I'd seen a picture of the guy Iris was supposedly obsessed with. She’d spent four years of college single for him. There was no way she'd go after Joss. Right? Maybe it was my imagination, but after that night, Joss grew even colder. With his final thesis defense approaching, he became a ghost. We hadn't seen each other in almost a week. On his birthday, I baked his favorite cake, bought him a gift, and went to his apartment to surprise him. When I opened the door, the apartment was filled with people. And Joss was cutting a cake. With Iris. She was practically enveloped in his arms, her hand placed over his as they held the knife together. The cheerful chatter in the room died instantly. Joss's face was a blank mask when he saw me. He didn't move his hand. "Keep going," he said to the group. It was Iris who pulled her hand away, her eyes darting toward me with a complicated expression. Someone quickly jumped in to explain. "It's Iris's birthday today too! We just thought it'd be fun for them to cut the cake together. Don't get the wrong idea!" His clumsy lie did nothing to soothe the icy dread creeping into my heart. How could I not get the wrong idea? All the hurt, the anxiety, the suspicion from the past few weeks solidified into a painful certainty the moment I saw them together. After the party, I confronted him. Or rather, I had a complete meltdown while he stood there, watching. "I'm your girlfriend! Why didn't you even tell me you were having a party?" "Are you that busy? You have time to cut a cake with her, but you can't find two seconds to reply to my texts?" My voice cracked, turning into a choked sob. "Joss... do you even want to be with me anymore?" He met my desperation with that same, familiar silence. I gripped the back of a chair to steady myself, then slowly sank to the floor, burying my face in my knees as silent tears streamed down my cheeks. The Joss who told me everything, who promised to marry me right after graduation, who never let me doubt him—he was gone. There was nothing left to say. In a haze of pain and anger, I told him it was over. His only reply was a cold, flat, "Whatever you want." Five days after we broke up, one of Joss's friends called me, trying to play peacemaker. "We just showed up to surprise him for his birthday, Ava. He didn't plan it. Look, he was wrong, but don't you think you've been a little clingy while he's been trying to finish his thesis? Everyone needs some space." Even Iris sounded exasperated with me. "Ava, I have a guy I like, you've seen his picture! Joss is your boyfriend. Why would I ever try to steal him from you?" Their words echoed in my head. I started to wonder if I had overreacted, if I was being selfish and impulsive. I decided to talk to Joss, to try and fix things. And that's when I walked in on them. We had been broken up for one week, and he'd already moved on with my roommate. A seamless transition, indeed. That night, I took Ricky with me. Since my dorm didn't allow pets, I had to leave him at my parents' house for the time being. I curled up in bed, my mind replaying the image of their kiss over and over, my imagination torturing me with scenes of what might have come next. A cold dread prickled at my scalp, and the knot in my chest tightened until I could barely breathe. Desperate for an outlet, I went online and found a public forum. I poured out all my pain and betrayal into a long, anonymous post answering a question about "seamless rebounds." I woke up the next morning to a firestorm. My phone had exploded. 99+ notifications. "Why do you think he agreed to the breakup so fast? It's obvious he already had someone lined up." "I agree with the comment above. It's not a 'seamless rebound' if the cheating was happening all along. He just needed an excuse to make the side piece official." Somehow, through my descriptions of the campus and the city, users had figured out which university I attended. They put the pieces together and identified me and Iris by name. The post went viral on campus forums, with hundreds of students weighing in. "Iris always seemed so sweet and innocent. Guess she's just another backstabbing snake." "I know the boyfriend, he's in the math department. Super smart, really handsome. No wonder she sank her claws into him..." "Is no one else going to talk about the part where the cheater came back from his 'phone call' with his shirt buttoned all the way up? He was definitely hiding something..." I stared at the flood of comments, a numb, hollow feeling spreading through me. My call log was full of missed calls, my messages overflowing. They were all from Joss. I turned off my phone and went downstairs to grab some food. He was waiting for me. As soon as I stepped outside, he strode toward me, his face a thunderous mask. "Take the post down," he commanded, his voice cold as ice. The rage I felt, fueled by the validation from strangers online, boiled over. "When did it start between you two?" I demanded. "Was it that night at the movies? Or was it even earlier?" Joss's face was impassive. "Ava, is there any point in discussing this now?" He didn't answer. But he didn't deny it, either. And in that silence, I had my answer. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, a sound of pure self-mockery. "If you didn't love me anymore, you could have just told me. I wouldn't have clung to you. Why did you have to—" "I'm not going to say it again," he cut me off, a warning edge to his voice, his patience clearly gone. "Letting this blow up won't do you any good, either. Take. The post. Down." His words hung in the air, cold and menacing. I stared at him, a wave of dizzying disorientation washing over me. Was this really the same Joss I had known my whole life? When we were kids, my family didn't have much money. A girl in our class, who had always disliked me, accused me of stealing her hair clip. She grabbed a handful of my hair and viciously shoved the butterfly clip she’d “found” in my backpack onto my head. "You've never worn anything this nice in your life, have you?" she sneered. "Stealing a ten-dollar hair clip. Just how poor are you?" Everyone called me a thief. Everyone except Joss. He stood up, his voice calm and clear, and told the teacher that he had seen the girl plant the clip in my bag herself. We became friends after that. He was the quiet, serious boy who protected me. Now, that boy was gone. In his place was a man who wouldn't even let me finish a sentence. He was protecting someone else now. A wave of grief and bitterness so strong it almost buckled my knees washed over me. "I'm not deleting it," I whispered, then turned and fled. That evening, when I went to pick up a food delivery, I felt eyes on me. I heard whispers, saw the strange, pitying glances. "They're both as bad as each other, if you ask me." "Desperate for attention, I guess." A cold sense of dread crept up my spine. I rushed back to my room and turned on my phone. There it was: an anonymous reply to my original post, and it had already gone viral. The title read: The plot twist you didn't see coming: She was cheating on her boyfriend with another man six months ago! (With photographic evidence!) The post was a long, scathing takedown, painting me as a master manipulator who had been cheating for months and was now playing the victim to ruin her ex-boyfriend and roommate's reputations. And unlike my post, this one had a picture. In the photo, I was standing outside a hotel with a tall, well-built guy. My arm was linked through his, and his hand was resting possessively on my waist. The lighting was dim, but you could see him looking down at me, our bodies close. And the man was definitely not Joss. My post had generated so much traffic that this counter-post instantly blew up. The tide of public opinion turned in a flash. The same people who had been defending me were now tearing me apart, their comments even more vicious than the ones aimed at Iris. Suddenly, one comment shot to the top. "Wait, isn't that Johnny Croft from Northwood University? The campus ice prince?" The replies came fast and furious: "No way! Why would Johnny be with her?" "I heard Johnny has a girlfriend, the prettiest girl in the literature department..." "Wow. So Ava was the other woman all along. The cheater got cheated on. Karma's a bitch!" My hands shook with rage as I dialed Iris's number. "Was that you?" I demanded. I could hear the smile in her voice. "What if it was?" she purred. "You started this, Ava. I'm just finishing it." Before I could say another word, she let out a sharp gasp. "On the phone," Iris said, her voice breathy and uneven. Then I heard Joss's voice, lazy and indifferent. "What's there to talk about with her?" The line went quiet, but it wasn't dead. I could hear their breathing, heavy and close, then the distinct, faint sound of a zipper being pulled down. I slammed the phone down, ending the call. My whole body was trembling. After a moment, my fingers, clumsy and numb, typed out a message to someone in my contacts list. I'm so sorry you got dragged into this. I'll handle it. I'm really, truly sorry. A few minutes later, a reply came back. It's fine. Two simple words. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. The truth was, I barely knew Johnny Croft. This was a complete nightmare for him. He was a friend of my cousin's, and six months ago, my cousin brought him to visit. I was the one who helped them book a hotel room. As we were leaving, I was looking down at my phone and almost walked into traffic. Johnny grabbed me, pulling me back onto the curb just in time. Iris was there that day. She must have been the one who took the picture. The world felt insane. Even after my cousin, Johnny, and I all posted explanations, providing the hotel booking confirmation with our names on it, the internet didn't seem to care. Maybe they didn't want the truth. They wanted drama. They wanted a winner and a loser. My life became a public spectacle. People would point and whisper when I walked across campus. It was then that Iris messaged me, saying we needed to talk. In person. My cousin, knowing how I tend to avoid confrontation, offered to come with me, but I told him I had to do this alone. She chose a coffee shop. When I arrived, she and Joss were already there, waiting. "There you are, Ava," Iris said with a saccharine smile. I ignored her, walking to the table and sitting down without a word. I could feel Joss's cold gaze on me, but I kept my eyes fixed on Iris. "What do you want to talk about?" "Talk?" Iris let out a theatrical laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, sweetie. You're in no position to be making demands." A humorless laugh escaped my own lips. "So that mystery guy you were supposedly in love with all these years... it was always Joss, wasn't it? You were lying to me the entire time." "Yes," she admitted, without a shred of shame. "It was love at first sight." My hand tightened into a fist under the table. "That night at the movies... did he come to your theater?" "Nope." I stared at her, confused. "We went to the..." she said, drawing out each word with malicious glee, "...rest-room... together." "Enough," I snapped, unable to bear hearing another disgusting detail. Even though I had suspected it, hearing the confirmation felt like a physical blow. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened," Iris said, though her tone held no remorse. "I can take down the post about you and Johnny." "But," she continued, her smile turning sharp, "you have to delete your original post. And you have to issue a public apology to me." "Never!" I shot back, my body trembling with rage. Iris's smile widened. She reached into her bag and slid a stack of photographs across the table. "Deleting your post is not an option. And a public apology is even more—" My words choked in my throat as my eyes fell on the photos. They were blurry, dark, and utterly vile. My blood ran cold. "How... how did you get these?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "How do you even know about..." My mind fractured. The images on the table triggered a cascade of memories I had locked away in the darkest corner of my mind. After Joss had stood up for me and exposed the girl who framed me for stealing the butterfly clip, she had targeted him for revenge. Her older brother was a local thug, the kind of person everyone was afraid of. For weeks, Joss wore long sleeves and masks, even in the heat. I found bruises on his arms and back, but he would just stand there silently while I put ointment on them, his jaw tight with pain. I would cry, my tears falling onto his bruised skin, and he would be the one to comfort me, his voice rough with pain. "I'm fine, Ava, really. Don't cry. It doesn't even hurt." Then one day, I was cutting through an alley and saw them. Her brother had Joss pinned to the ground, his boot grinding Joss's fingers into the filthy pavement. That's when I understood the real price he had paid for defending me. I didn't think. I just ran, shoving the guy off him, screaming at them to leave Joss alone, lying that the campus security was on their way. The brother grabbed me, his fingers digging into my jaw. He laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "Security? I don't think so. But you know what? You do something for me, and I'll let your little boyfriend go." I fought, I screamed, I cried, but I was powerless. Through my tears, I could see Joss, unconscious on the ground. Later, somehow, Joss got the photos back. He held me so tight, his eyes red-rimmed, and his voice broke as he promised me, "I'll never let anyone hurt you again." "If you don't delete that post and apologize to me," Iris's voice sliced through my memories, "I can't guarantee where these little pictures might end up. What will your parents think? What will the entire internet think?" How could Iris have these? How could she possibly know? "How do I know?" Iris's voice was a low, cruel murmur, each word a needle piercing my heart. "You've already guessed, haven't you?" A roar filled my ears. I slowly, mechanically, turned my head to look at Joss. He wouldn't meet my eyes. His gaze was fixed on the table, anywhere but at me. I felt my body turn to ice. A single word escaped my lips, a ghost of a sound. "Why...?" You promised. You promised you would never let anyone hurt me again.
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