Dumped My Fake-Poor Ex, Married My Wealthy Boss

The yellow cab idled outside the red-brick apartment building in Brooklyn.

Kaia handed the driver a crumpled twenty-dollar bill and stepped out into the pouring rain.

She walked up the wooden stairs. Every step groaned under her weight, a familiar sound that now made her skin crawl.

She pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked the chipped front door.

The dim overhead light flickered on. It illuminated the cheap, second-hand sofa and the wobbly coffee table she had bought to save money for Kasen's "art supplies."

Kaia stared at the framed photo on the wall. It was the two of them at Coney Island, smiling like idiots.

Bile rose in her throat.

She walked straight into the bedroom and dragged a battered black suitcase from under the bed.

She threw the suitcase open on the mattress.

She didn't touch the TV. She didn't touch the microwave.

She only grabbed her cheap work suits and a few basic t-shirts.

She walked into the bathroom, grabbed the cheap sterling silver necklace Kasen had given her for their anniversary, and dropped it straight into the trash can.

As she zipped the suitcase shut, the phone on the bed lit up.

The screen flashed with Kasen's name, accompanied by a heart emoji.

Kaia stared at the screen. Her eyes were as cold as dead ash.

She took a slow, deep breath, expanding her tight lungs. She swiped the screen and tapped the speakerphone button.

"Hey, baby," Kasen's voice drifted out of the speaker. It was thick with fake exhaustion and gentle concern. "Are you still working? You must be so tired."

Kaia dug her fingernails into her palms.

"Where are you?" she asked. She forced her voice to sound small.

"I'm in a basement gallery in Soho," Kasen lied effortlessly. "Helping a buddy set up an exhibit. It's freezing down here."

Through the speaker, Kaia clearly heard the clinking of ice against crystal glass. She heard Lex's muffled, arrogant laughter in the background.

The last microscopic shred of hope in Kaia's chest died.

She stood up straight. She looked at the peeling paint on the ceiling.

"Kasen," she said, her voice flat and devoid of any warmth. "Let's break up."

There was no dramatic pause on the other end, only an audible, patronizing sigh. The background noise didn't even stop.

"Are you throwing a tantrum over the rent again?" Kasen's voice was laced with weary annoyance. "Come on, Kaia, don't be a child. Call me when you've cooled off."

Kaia didn't yell. She didn't cry. She hit the red button.

She immediately blocked his number.

She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and pulled it off the bed. She looked around the tiny, pathetic cage she had built for a man who despised her.

She walked to the entryway. She unclipped the brass key from her keychain.

She slammed the key down onto the wooden shoe cabinet. The metal clattered loudly in the empty apartment.

Kaia opened the door and walked out. She didn't look back.

She stepped out into the freezing Brooklyn night. The rain instantly soaked her hair, pasting it to her cheeks.

She dragged her suitcase down the cracked sidewalk toward the subway station.

The cold wind sliced through her thin coat. She shivered violently, her mind racing.

She had exactly forty-two dollars in her checking account.

She had no home. She had no safety net.

The only thing keeping her from sleeping on the streets was her job at Vantage Group.

The roar of the approaching subway train drowned out her heavy exhale. She stepped into the brightly lit, empty car.