performance for Ethan Blake. All those years of
apparent devotion, all that support… was it all
an act?
Suddenly, memories flooded back. I was twelve
when I moved from a small town in Georgia to
live with my wealthy family in New York. I felt
awkward, insecure, and out of place. Ethan
defended me from some bullies once, and that
was it. I was hopelessly smitten. I chased him
relentlessly, making my feelings public
knowledge. But he despised me for it. Finally, I
saw the light. I gave up on Ethan and noticed
Aaron, who’d always been quietly there for me. One rainy night, he held an umbrella over me and said, “Hailey, I don’t expect you to ever see me the way I see you. I just want you to be free and happy.” How ironic. I’d swept my heart clean for Aaron, welcomed him in, fell for his gentle affection, and started dreaming of a future with him. And all I did was give him the perfect opportunity to shred my heart to pieces. Piece by agonizing piece. My nose stung, and
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tears welled up in my eyes. One escaped and I
quickly wiped it away. The voices inside
continued, offering Aaron advice: “The best
revenge on a woman? Let her think she’s at the
peak of happiness, then yank the rug out. Way
more satisfying.” “Yeah, you gotta go back, Aaron. Go back and help her pick out the dress, send out the invitations, play the part perfectly. Then, on the big day, just… poof! I guarantee she’ll lose it.” Their laughter was sickening. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, waiting for Aaron’s response. I desperately wanted him to say, “Don’t be ridiculous, I love Hailey.” Or even, “That’s too cruel, man.” But after a long silence, Aaron’s voice, calm and steady, agreed. “Yeah, that’s… not bad. Let’s do it.” A wave of rage washed over me, nearly choking me. I forced a bitter smile, but the tears kept coming. Aaron, you want to play games? Fine. I’ll play
along. I can’t wait to see your face when you
realize, on our wedding day, that I’m the one
who’s gone.
<
I erased any trace of my trip to Chicago and returned to the apartment Aaron and I shared. I took out every gift he’d ever given me and systematically destroyed them. It was strange. I wasn’t consciously thinking about anything, but the tears just kept flowing. I’d once heard that heartbreak is like arthritis. You feel fine during the day, but at night, the damp cold seeps into your bones, an agonizing ache. Maybe this was just withdrawal. I got up and spread my custom–made wedding dress on the floor. Without a flicker of emotion, I took a pair of scissors and sliced a jagged tear down the middle. A reminder. Relationships are like that too. Once they’re torn, no amount of mending can ever make them whole again. I gathered the ruined remnants and hid them in the study, a room Aaron rarely used. I couldn’t sleep. Scrolling through social media, I saw a “suggested friend“-someone I might know. Her username was @LovesAaron4Ever. On a whim, I clicked. It was a chronicle of a girl’s unrequited love. Her latest post was tagged in
