But just moments ago, scrolling through Leonard's social media, I'd discovered the truth: that same day, she'd been on a luxury yacht, throwing a party for Leonard.

A single bottle of champagne from that party cost more than hundreds of those discount coupons combined.

I suddenly found the whole thing laughable.

A violent cramp seized my stomach, and I doubled over, retching.

Rowena panicked and rushed to hold me. "Ulysses, what's wrong?"

"Don't touch me!"

I shoved her hands away with every ounce of strength I had and forced myself upright.

I blinked the tears back.

"This thing between us... it's over."

"Just go. Don't come looking for me again."

Rowena stared at me, her eyes brimming with hurt.

I turned my back to her. I couldn't look at her anymore.

A sigh drifted from behind me.

"Ulysses, no matter what you're thinking, I've never once considered leaving you."

"If you insist on blowing this out of proportion, maybe we both need to cool down."

Her voice had gone cold. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall.

Only when the door clicked shut did I feel the last of my strength drain away.

The cramping in my stomach finally won. My legs buckled, and I crumpled to the floor.

In the early hours of the morning, my phone rang.

I sighed and answered without looking at the screen.

"Stop calling. We're done—"

Leonard's voice came through, thick with tears.

"Ulysses, I think my girlfriend's cheating on me. What do I do?"

"She went out all of a sudden tonight and she's still not back..."

"What else could she be doing besides keeping some boy toy on the side? She used to tell me everywhere she went!"

I didn't respond.

Or rather, I had no idea how to.

What was I supposed to say? That the woman who doted on him so attentively was actually my girlfriend?

His sobbing bled through the speaker. I said nothing and pressed the end-call button.

I didn't sleep at all that night. The next morning, I dragged myself to work with dark circles under both eyes.

I came home exhausted, only to find Leonard standing outside my apartment complex.

The second he spotted me, he rushed over. "Ulysses, can I crash at your place?"

I didn't dare let anything show. I played dumb. "Doesn't your girlfriend have money? Did you two have a fight?"

Leonard's eyes went red instantly.

"She cheated on me! I'm not spending a single cent of hers!"

"I'm still in college. You're the only person I'm close to. None of my classmates get along with me. I've got nowhere else to go..."

I couldn't bring myself to say no. So I brought him home.

Inside the cramped studio apartment, the silence was suffocating.

Leonard sniffled.

"Honestly, I don't really think she cheated. I just... I don't feel secure, you know? I figured if I threw a little tantrum, she'd care about me more."

"I mean, the gap between us is huge. I have to do something to keep her attention."

"Rowena doesn't know you, so there's no way she'd think to look for me here."

There was a smugness in his voice. I listened and couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Leonard didn't notice my silence. He was already wandering around the apartment, poking through my things.

"Ulysses, you and your girlfriend aren't that close, huh?"

I froze. Leonard was pointing at a box of ultra-thin condoms in my drawer, a sly grin plastered across his face.

"If things were good between you two, why's the packaging still sealed?"

Pride crept across his features.

"My girlfriend is insatiable. Always all over me... We never run out of condoms at our place."

"Oh, funny coincidence. My girlfriend likes lemon-flavored ones too!"

My mind went blank. A low ringing filled my ears.

The truth was, life had ground me down so hard that Rowena and I hadn't been intimate all that often.

Two months ago, she'd come home and a box of condoms had fallen out of her coat pocket.

Lemon-flavored. I'd assumed she bought them for us. I'd even felt a little shy about it.

They were for Leonard?

The humiliation hit me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

Leonard was still rambling, oblivious:

"I get the feeling your girlfriend doesn't really love you that much. I mean, why else would she let you live in a rental?"

"My girlfriend always says money is where the love is. That's why she gives me nothing but the best."

His tone was so guileless, so innocent. To me, every word was a knife twisting deeper.

I laughed bitterly. It wasn't that Rowena didn't understand the importance of money.

She just didn't think I was worth spending it on.

I'd never once experienced the kind of devotion she showed him. Every sentence he spoke was another cut, slow and precise, flaying me alive.

I practically fled to the bathroom.

But when I came back to the living room, Leonard was holding my phone, staring at the screen with a blank expression.

My pupils contracted.

I'd left in such a rush that I'd forgotten to lock it.

Leonard's voice came out soft, almost fragile:

"What a coincidence. Your girlfriend's name is Rowena Ashworth too?"

My hands and feet went ice-cold. Before I could say a word, there was a noise at the front door.

"Ulysses, I picked up that cake you love..."

Rowena pushed the door open and locked eyes with Leonard, who was sitting on the couch.

"You're a goddamn bastard!"

Leonard burst into tears and ran out.

Rowena panicked instantly.

She whipped around and glared at me, her face twisted with a fury I had never seen before:

"I told you I never wanted to break up with you! Why would you hurt Leonard like this?"

"You think this little stunt will drive him away? Not a chance! The more jealous you act, the harder I'll protect him!"

She shoved my hand away when I tried to explain and rushed after Leonard.

The motion was too forceful. She knocked the piggy bank off the shelf.

Ceramic shards exploded across the floor, and with them, a shower of loose change.

I ignored the cut on my ankle and stared at the coins scattered on the ground.

Those first few years after I started working, the hours were brutal and the pay was pitiful. Rowena had bought that piggy bank specifically for me, told me to toss in whatever spare change I had.

She'd joked that we'd save up enough for a penthouse someday.

She forgot about it eventually. I never did. I kept dropping coins in, one by one. Sometimes I'd even go to the farmers' market and ask vendors to break bills into change.

As if filling that jar meant Rowena and I would finally have a home of our own.

I crouched down and counted the coins slowly.

Most of them were dimes and nickels. Barely any quarters.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough to buy a plane ticket out of here.

I didn't know what Rowena said to Leonard.

That night, a post went viral, trending on every platform.

Leonard had publicly accused me by name of being a homewrecker. He claimed I'd used cooking dinner as a cover story when I was really hunting for a sugar mama, trying to seduce someone else's girlfriend.

He sobbed through the whole video, tears streaming down his face:

"We just had a little fight, my girlfriend and I. I never imagined I'd run into someone like him. If my girlfriend didn't love only me, he might've actually stolen her away!"

He let my phone number, personal details, and home address slip into the post, as if by accident.

Within minutes, my phone was overwhelmed. An endless flood of slurs, threats, and abuse poured in from every direction.

A deafening crash came from outside my door. Someone had hurled red paint across it. On the wall beside it, someone had scrawled the words "HOMEWRECKER" and "SHAMELESS."

I stood there shaking with rage, wanting to confront Rowena.

But the moment I stepped outside, a rock struck me hard.

Searing pain exploded at my temple. In the last second before everything went dark, I heard a voice dripping with contempt:

"Homewreckers who have the nerve to show their faces in public deserve to die!"

I opened my eyes in a hospital bed.

The nurse told me it was only early-stage stomach cancer. There was still hope for a cure. She urged me not to give up on treatment.

I stared blankly ahead, my hand drifting to my stomach. Only then did the recent warning signs click into place.

Along with the pain came a crushing wave of irony.

The next day, I dragged my weakened body back to my apartment, only to find my landlord standing in the doorway, red-faced and furious.

"Get the hell out! I'm not renting my place to some man-stealing piece of trash!"

He'd rather forfeit my deposit than let me stay another night.

As I wheeled my suitcase through the door, he spat on the ground behind me.

"Disgusting. You look like a decent person, but you're nothing but a shameless homewrecker!"

Rowena called. Her voice was low, measured.

"Ulysses, I never wanted us to be apart. But you hurt Leonard. There has to be some kind of consequence."

"He's already calmed down. You can come back to Ashworth Group anytime. Ulysses, I truly want to protect you."

I hung up, hard. The nausea I'd been holding back surged through my chest, and I doubled over, dry heaving on the sidewalk.

Rowena probably assumed I had nowhere left to turn. That she was my only lifeline.

What she didn't know was that I'd already planned to leave.

I flagged down a cab heading for the airport. The draft in my phone was already finished, every word polished and ready.

Leonard wasn't the only one who could post online.

Laid out on a proper timeline, it was Leonard who was the real interloper. The one everyone should have been cursing.

I hit send. Then I turned around and took one last look at the city I'd poured seven years of my life into.

Then I boarded the flight to Southport.

Meanwhile, an assistant burst into the office in a panic.

"Ms. Ashworth, Mr. Henson just posted your entire relationship timeline online!"

"He's saying Leonard was the other man!"