I was worried — my boyfriend hadn’t texted me, and his voice sounded worse than I expected when he finally answered the phone. He said he was tired, maybe sick. I didn’t hesitate — I grabbed snacks, fruit, tea, and throat lozenges and headed up to his apartment, determined to take care of him.
The elevator doors opened, and my heart crashed to the floor — there he was, Jace, wrapped in the arms of another woman. It wasn’t a friendly hug — it was too close, too intimate.
I didn’t wait for excuses. I threw the bag of groceries at him, fruit spilling everywhere, and walked out without a word. He didn’t follow, didn’t call — nothing. That silence hurt deeper than the betrayal itself.
Days passed. I couldn’t let go, and I knew I needed closure, so I texted him and agreed to meet at our café — the place of our first date. I sat there waiting… and waited. He never showed. Then his excuse came: he couldn’t stand seeing me sad. That was the moment I knew it was over.
When I returned home, there she was — the same woman I’d caught him with. Her name was Ashley, and she wasn’t there for closure either. She admitted she once believed Jace’s lies about me — that I was awful to him, ignored him, made him feel worthless. She looked sorry, and in that moment, our shared frustration sparked something powerful.
We decided not to stew in heartbreak — we plotted a little revenge. Together we created dating profiles in his name, posted his number with flirty taglines, and even rented billboard space with his photo and a cheeky caption about finding love. The phone calls and texts from a bewildered Jace poured in — “Who are these people?” “Why won’t the phone stop ringing?” — and we laughed harder with every message.
Eventually, Jace begged us to stop, offering to do anything — but we had one condition. We agreed to end it only after he sent money enough for a vacation. Once the cash hit my account, I texted him: Oops, we forgot the passwords to the accounts — and the billboards run for two more months.
Then we blocked him for good — and booked our trip to Spain, where sunshine and sangria became our new beginning. We hadn’t just closed a chapter — we’d turned disappointment into freedom and gained something unexpected: a strong friendship and a fresh start.
