The Meme King Stole My Heart

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"The elders restored the engagement," he added. "My hands are tied."

*Two months ago.*

No wonder he vanished on my birthday without a single text. No wonder he suddenly started posting photos for a week straight—shots taken from low angles, featuring a smile brighter than anything he'd ever given me.

He had been with Julia Fox.

I turned toward the window. The city blurred past. I didn't say another word.

That night, I slept on the very edge of the bed, leaving a vast, cold expanse between us.

When Matthew finished his shower, he reached for me out of habit, leaning in for a goodnight kiss.

I turned my face away.

His frown deepened. He pulled me forcefully into his arms. "What? Still mad? I told you—I won't let her find out about you."

My eyes burned as I looked up at him. "So you expect me to be your dirty little secret for the rest of my life?"

Matthew froze. His thumb brushed my cheek, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Don't make it sound so ugly, baby."

He hooked my legs around his waist. His lips grazed the tip of my nose. "Can you really bear to leave me? Or was last night not enough for you?"

It was always like this.

Every time I needed emotional reassurance, he answered with sex. He drowned my questions in pleasure until I forgot to ask them.

Five years. He had monopolized five years of my life. My entire world revolved around him. Walking away felt like tearing off a limb.

But staying meant losing myself completely.

*It has to end.*

He kissed me fiercely, his hands skilled and demanding. I closed my eyes. A single tear traced a path into my hair.

*Fine.* Tonight would be the funeral for my wasted youth.

---

The next morning, the other side of the bed was cold.

I didn't know when Matthew had finally stopped, but the dark circles under my eyes required three layers of concealer to hide.

I arrived at the office and walked straight to Manager Swanson's office, placing my transfer application on his desk.

On my way back, Valerie Dickerson stepped out of the break room. She spotted me from down the hall, eyebrows shooting up. She adjusted her grip on her coffee cup.

And deliberately veered into my path.

I didn't react in time. We collided.

Scalding coffee splashed across my blouse and skirt.

"Oops! Sorry!" Valerie swatted at my skirt, her hands only spreading the stain further, grinding the hot liquid into my skin. Her voice dripped with saccharine insincerity. "You were walking *way* too fast. I didn't do it on purpose."

I slapped her hand away. Between Matthew's betrayal and the burn searing my leg, my patience had evaporated.

"If you're done making coffee, go back to your desk. Why are you lurking in the doorway?"

She inspected her nails, unfazed. "I came in early and forgot to clock in. Is that a crime? Maybe watch where you're going next time."

I stepped around her, fighting the urge to scream, and grabbed my spare clothes from my desk.

The coffee had left angry red burns on my calf.

Bonnie Barber slid her chair over, handing me a tube of ointment and an ice pack. Her voice dropped. "Valerie heard that Daniel Swanson gave you the director spot at the overseas branch. She's been fuming all morning. Posted a bunch of passive-aggressive status updates about you."

"Is that so?"

I checked Valerie's profile.

Blank.

"She blocked me," I said with a shrug, pressing the ice to my leg.

At lunch, I went to the hospital just to be safe. Sitting alone in the sterile white corridor, the weight of everything finally crashed down.

My heart felt like it was filled with lead. Every time my mind drifted to Matthew, a sharp, physical pain pierced my chest.

The automated system called my number three times before I snapped out of it, hastily wiping the moisture from my eyes.