His Boys’ Chat Exposed My Trauma,So I Burned His Empire

But that familiar hem of his shirt, the matching couple's ring on his finger—every detail screamed the truth about who he was with.

Kevin had been cheating on me for a long time.

In the distance, fireworks exploded into the sky.

I snapped out of my daze, yanked the charm off with all my strength, and hurled it into the trash.

Ding—

Camille had sent something new.

This time, a voice recording.

In it, she asked in that coy, bratty tone of hers:

"Kevin, between me and your girlfriend—who do you love more?"

"Hmm?"

Kevin's voice sounded drowsy. Tender. Intimate.

"You. I love you the most. She can't even compare to you."

"Baby, let's go again, okay?"

The violent rustling of fabric left nothing to the imagination.

I switched off my phone and bolted to the bathroom, retching violently over the sink.

When I finally looked up at the mirror—

Somewhere along the way, tears had soaked my face.

I booked a 7 a.m. train ticket for the next morning without thinking twice.

All I wanted was to get out of this city as fast as possible. Away from Kevin.

I don't remember how I got home.

By the time I came back to myself, it was already the sixth day of the new year.

Mom and Dad could tell something was wrong, but they didn't pry. Instead, they kept buying me little things, trying every trick they knew to coax a smile out of me.

That morning, Mom asked me gently:

"The James family invited you over for dinner. Do you want to go?"

I glanced at my phone.

Kevin had finally replied yesterday.

Two messages.

One was recalled.

The newest one contained a single word:

[Okay.]

I said yes anyway.

Some things just needed to be said face to face.

A crowd had gathered outside the James family's front door.

When they saw me approach, their expressions shifted—strange, loaded looks. Some pitying. Others hungry for drama.

My stomach dropped. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Kevin kneeling in the middle of the living room.

Standing awkwardly beside him was Camille.

Do the math, I thought bitterly. The second he saw my message, he must have rushed to bring her home.

Inside, Mrs. James's face was flushed crimson with rage. Her palm slammed against the table so hard the dishes rattled.

"You ungrateful wretch! How could you do this to Millicent?!"

Kevin looked disheveled, but his jaw was set with stubborn resolve.

"I'll explain everything to her. I don't love her anymore. Camille is my girlfriend now."

My heart clenched like a fist had closed around it.

Hearing him say it out loud—it still shattered me.

Mrs. James let out a laugh of pure disbelief.

"Then by all means, enlighten me. Tell me what's so wonderful about this woman that you'd throw away ten years with Millicent."

Kevin's face lit up, like someone had flipped a switch. Happiness. Sweetness. Devotion.

"She cooks for me. She irons my shirts—the ones that are always wrinkled."

"When the company hit a crisis, she pulled all-nighters with me, stayed by my side through every minute of it."

"Millicent? She just hid away in her hometown. Didn't check on me, didn't care. Couldn't even bring me a hot meal."

"So why should I stay with her?!"

He spoke with such righteous conviction, such passionate certainty.

As if he wasn't just convincing his parents—but himself.

Whispers rippled through the crowd of relatives and neighbors.

"Well, when you put it that way, maybe the Simmons girl really wasn't good enough. Isn't the whole point of dating to have someone who actually cares for you?"

I stopped in my tracks. A bitter lump lodged itself in my throat.

How laughable.

None of them knew—I had planned to stay in Capital City.

The opportunities here were endless. My dream job was everywhere I looked.

But Kevin wanted to start his business, and his parents were worried sick.