While my boyfriend, Reuben Gallagher, was giving me the silent treatment, he started a project on a crowdfunding site.

The project was titled: "Fundraising for My 'Farewell, Thea' Bachelor Party."

Soon, the campaign was 99% funded.

I knew he was waiting for me to cave, just like the countless times we'd argued before, where I would end up crying and begging him to stop.

But this time, I made the final donation myself and left a comment: "Count me in."

Then, I blocked him on everything.

Three days later, his sister sent me a message.

"Reuben left you a VIP pass for the National Street Dance Competition finals. Stop hiding and come home. He'll forgive you if you just show up."

I glanced at the plane ticket on my desk and replied.

"I'm busy."

Busy indeed. I'd been accepted into the MFA program at Kingston University, and my flight for orientation was that very night.

From then on, we were in two different cities. Our paths would never cross again.

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1

The moment I saw the viral video on TikTok, I stormed down to the city center plaza and slapped Reuben Gallagher. Hard.

In the video, Reuben was comforting his dance partner, Rosa Reyes, after she'd lost an online competition. He'd pulled her into an impromptu street dance battle right there in the plaza. When the music ended, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss in front of everyone.

I stood before him now and asked, "So where does that leave me?"

He clicked his tongue, impatiently brushing away his sweat-drenched bangs as if I'd just said something ridiculous.

"It was part of the performance, Thea. Do you have to ruin the mood?"

He said, glancing back at Rosa Reyes.

Rosa's voice was a soft, saccharine whisper, her eyes welling up as if she were about to cry. "Thea, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. Please don't be mad at him..."

"Enough," Reuben snapped, cutting her off. His eyes, cold and hard, locked onto me. "I'm the one who kissed her. It's not a big deal, so why are you making a scene? What, you want to threaten to break up again?"

Threatening me with a breakup. Again.

This was the hundredth time we'd fought about breaking up over Rosa.

We had been together for four years, since our freshman year. We'd had countless fights, and every single time, I was the one who backed down first.

Reuben had probably gotten used to it.

This time, I wasn't going to back down.

I didn't even have the energy to argue. I just nodded and turned toward the street.

Suddenly, Rosa rushed over and grabbed my hand. Her rhinestone-adorned nails dug into my skin, her voice sickly sweet.

"Thea, don't be angry. Reuben really loves you. It's just... our chemistry on the dance floor is electric. Some things just happen naturally. But in his heart..."

I forcefully shook her hand off.

Disgusting.

A wave of nausea churned in my stomach.

Reuben strode over and tugged her behind him, shielding her as he glared at me. "If you can't handle it, then get lost," he bit out, each word sharp. "Don't just stand there making a scene."

Watching him protect her, I suddenly laughed.

"Fine," I said calmly, then turned and hailed a taxi.

The car door slammed shut. I didn't cry.

At an intersection, the driver shot me a sympathetic look in the rearview mirror before silently driving on.

My phone buzzed relentlessly with messages from Reuben.

"Are you done with your little tantrum?"

"Come back."

"Thea Bishop, don't test my patience."

And the last one: "You really want to break up? You'd better think this through."

I didn't reply.

The city lights blurred past the window, a chaotic smear just like the memories of the last four years.

I had been completely captivated the first time I saw Reuben dance at the university arts festival.

On our first date, my heart felt like it was going to hammer its way out of my chest.

He had once printed a design I made onto his dance crew's uniforms, had quietly kept me company during all-nighters to meet design deadlines, and had even danced for me all night long on my birthday—a private performance just for me.

But it was also him who, time and time again, chose Rosa over me.

A Discord notification for the dance crew's group chat suddenly popped up on my phone. Someone had tagged Reuben.

"Heard that video of you and Rosa in the plaza blew up. Did your girl freak out on you again?"

I had been in that group chat for four years but had never said a word. They had probably forgotten I was even in it.

Reuben replied instantly.

"Don't even get me started. It's so annoying. Now she's giving me the silent treatment, won't even reply to my messages."

He followed it with a clown emoji.

"Wow, she's getting bold! Daring to ignore you? I say, take the chance to get a few days of peace. You're always complaining about how clingy she is, right?"

"Ha, I bet she won't last a day before she comes crawling back to you."

Reuben replied: "You're right."

With that, he immediately shared a link to a crowdfunding site on his social media.

"Fundraising for My 'Farewell, Thea' Bachelor Party."

No one knew what had happened, but people started donating and sharing it anyway.

I donated too, and left a comment.

"Count me in."

A message from Reuben buzzed through almost immediately.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

It meant we were breaking up. Isn't it obvious?

I couldn't be bothered to explain. I blocked him on everything and left the Discord group that had been mocking me.

By the time I looked up again, the taxi had arrived at the apartment building we shared.

Reuben didn't come home that night. No doubt he'd returned to the 'performance' I had so rudely interrupted.

With that thought, I started packing.

While sorting through my things, I found a sketch tucked under my drawing board.

It was a tattoo design I'd created for Reuben—a unique symbol that blended our first initials, something that belonged only to us.

I had spent ages drawing it, and when he saw it, his eyes had lit up as he'd spun me around in his arms.

I stared at the sketch for what felt like hours, watching as the sky outside my window slowly bruised from dusk to dark.

Then, I stuffed the drawing into the very bottom of my suitcase and zipped it shut.

I sat on the floor, looking around the small apartment we had lived in for over two years, and memories flooded back.

Reuben and I didn't officially get together until the second semester of our freshman year.

I was volunteering backstage at the university arts festival the first time I saw him dance.

He was gorgeous, came from money, and was the undisputed king of the campus street dance scene. Every move he made pulsed with a raw, untamed energy that made him the unavoidable center of gravity in any room.

And I was just an anonymous student from the art department. The boldest thing I had ever done was fill my sketchbook with drawings of him in motion.

We were worlds apart.

After the festival, I was pinning up posters on the bulletin board outside the library when a skateboard nearly clipped my ankles.

The thumbtacks in my hand scattered across the ground. I quickly bent down to pick them up when a voice came from above.

"Thea?"

I looked up and saw Reuben standing there, silhouetted against the light. He wore a simple black hoodie, his features sharp and achingly handsome.

He actually knew my name.

I was so stunned I couldn't speak. He had already knelt down to help me.

"You're Thea Bishop from the art department, right?" he asked. "You designed the promo posters for the festival. I remember them."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I could only manage a nod.

Reuben helped me pick up the rest of the tacks and asked where I was headed. Along the way, he chatted easily about funny moments from the festival and my poster design, his tone familiar and natural.

When we reached the art department building, he handed the tacks back to me and smiled.

"I'll be seeing you around. We should be friends."

I clutched my phone, watching his back as he skated away, my palms already slick with sweat.

From that day on, he really did start showing up at the art department more often.

At first, it was just a casual greeting when he passed by. Then he started bringing me coffee while I painted. Later, he would sit beside me, watching me work for a whole afternoon.

Reuben wasn't the type to sit still. Most of the time, he'd have his headphones on, listening to music, his body subtly moving to the rhythm.

I would paint and steal glances at him, a sweet, aching feeling filling my chest.

On New Year's Eve, the university organized a bonfire party.

The crowd was a roaring, joyful mess, the music deafening.

I was chatting with a friend when a space was suddenly cleared up front, drawing everyone's attention.

And standing in the center of that space was Reuben. He looked straight at me and, under everyone's gaze, began an impromptu dance, every move exploding with passion and power.

As the last embers of the bonfire spiraled up into the night sky, he shouted, "Thea, I've liked you since the first moment I saw you! Will you be my girlfriend?"

I looked into his sparkling eyes, my heart pounding, and screamed back with all my might, "I will!"

The beginning of our relationship was sweet.

He would take a pattern I'd casually doodled and use it as the logo for his dance crew, printing it on all their merchandise.

When I pulled all-nighters to finish a project, he would silently bring me late-night snacks and energy drinks.

He remembered an art exhibition I had mentioned offhand and would surprise me with tickets he had bought weeks in advance.

He made me believe I hadn't loved the wrong person.

But then, about six months into our relationship, his new dance partner, Rosa, appeared.

She was the partner Reuben had handpicked to compete with him in the national competition.

The first time I saw Rosa, I finally understood what people meant by a "perfect match."

Rosa, clad in a limited-edition designer tracksuit, bounced over with a smile and clapped Reuben on the shoulder.

"Reuben!"

Only then did she seem to notice me. Her gaze raked over my paint-splattered jeans. "So this is your girlfriend?" Her lip curled slightly. "Wow, you smell so... artistic. Like paint and turpentine. And Reuben, honey, that t-shirt you're wearing is... something else."

She let out a small laugh, the mockery in her eyes undisguised.

I looked down, twisting the hem of my shirt between my fingers, my cheeks burning.

I had hand-painted this t-shirt, but next to her dazzling outfit, it felt childish and plain.

Reuben casually handed a bottle of water to Rosa and asked why she'd shown up out of the blue. She said there was a new move that needed urgent practice.

That afternoon, Reuben and I were supposed to go see a movie together.

But Rosa's words were all it took. He turned to me, his expression apologetic but firm. "Hey, we'll have to catch that movie another time. The competition's coming up, so I need to go practice with Rosa."

I was taken aback for a moment, then just nodded.

Rosa immediately looped her arm through his, shooting me a playfully apologetic look. "So sorry about this! You don't mind if I steal him for a bit, do you?"

No one noticed my quiet humiliation, not even Reuben.

That was just the first time.

After that, similar incidents happened again and again.

When Rosa wanted to film a new dance video, Reuben would ditch our date to be her personal cameraman.

When Rosa needed someone to banter with on her livestream, Reuben would drop everything to join her, fielding all sorts of flirtatious questions from their fans.

When Rosa celebrated hitting one hundred thousand followers, Reuben threw a huge party for her, inviting all their friends and personally handling every detail.

But he completely forgot that day was also our anniversary.

Every time I got angry, Reuben always had the same excuses.

"She's just my partner, don't overthink it."

"My career is taking off right now. Can't you just support me?"

"Since when did you get so insecure and petty?"

Arguments, silent treatments, making up. A vicious, repeating cycle.

Whenever a fight dragged on, the sight of the weary impatience on his face would always make me the first to give in, to reach out and take his hand.

He would pull me into his arms and murmur, "Alright, alright, you're the only one I love."

And then, everything would snap back to how it was before.

Rosa would still summon him at all hours, and he seemed incapable of ever saying no. And whenever I tried to voice my feelings, he would just see it as me being unreasonable.

That unique tattoo I designed for him, the one he kept promising he would get? He never did. Until one day, I stumbled upon a file on his computer. He'd altered the design himself, weaving a stylized 'R'—for Rosa—into our symbol.

It wasn't until tonight, when I saw that video of them kissing, that all the excuses I had made for him shattered completely.

If my presence was so repulsive to him, then I would just leave.