@Jace:
Let’s meet tonight at 6 p.m., at our café.

Our café—the place where we’d had our first date. The audacity. Still, I agreed.

By 6 p.m., I was at the usual corner booth, surrounded by the comforting smell of coffee and pastries. But comfort eluded me.

Every time the door opened, I looked up, expecting to see him. By 7 p.m., I was fuming. By 8 p.m., I was ready to explode. Finally, my phone buzzed.

@Jace:
I can’t come. I can’t bear to see you like this.

I stared at the screen in disbelief. He was the one who cheated, yet he was playing the victim? My anger boiled over.

When I got home, the fury still burned in my chest. As I rounded the corner to my apartment, I stopped in my tracks.

Standing by my door was her—the woman from the elevator. She looked uneasy, like she’d been waiting for me.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, my voice echoing in the hallway.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, her tone calm but hesitant. “I owe you more than just an explanation.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re wasting your time. You can have him,” I said bitterly, fumbling with my keys.

“That’s the thing—I don’t want him,” she said firmly, stopping me. “I see now who he really is. I thought you deserved to know.”

I hesitated, curiosity tugging at me. With a sigh, I stepped aside. “Fine. Come in.”

As she walked in, I asked, “What’s your name?”

“Ashley,” she said softly.

“Kate,” I replied curtly.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of wine. “Tea won’t cut it for this,” I said, setting down two glasses.

Ashley sat, her hands folded. “Jace told me about you,” she began. “But he painted you as terrible. He said you ignored him, flirted with other guys, made him feel worthless.”

“That’s exactly what he did to me!” I exploded.

“I know now. He fooled us both,” she admitted. “But I’m not here to cry over him. I want revenge.”

Her suggestion caught me off guard, but as we started brainstorming, it all clicked. And that’s how it began.

We set up fake profiles, scheduled meetups at his place, and even plastered his face on billboards. Seeing his panic texts was priceless.

When it was all over, we blocked his number and booked a trip to Spain to celebrate. On the beach, sipping sangria with Ashley, I realized I’d lost a boyfriend but gained an incredible friend.

Revenge had never tasted sweeter.