Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
I was five years older than him. When we first got together, Kyle would wrap his arms around my waist with a bright, boyish grin.
"Older women are mature," he’d say. "You really know how to take care of a guy."
When his friends teased him about dating an older girl, he pulled me behind him protectively.
"What’s wrong with a few years? I like her exactly the way she is."
Then Mia joined his company. She was his age—twenty-six—bubbly, wild, and always ready to party.
Kyle started complaining that I was a nag: "Can you stop suffocating me? You sound just like my mother."
At a party, Mia poured him another shot of tequila. I gently touched his arm and whispered, "Maybe take it easy tonight."
Kyle slammed his glass onto the table in front of everyone.
"Look at yourself! You’re thirty-one, an old woman! I’m sick of this. Can you stop trying to control my life?"
I looked at him quietly.
"Then let’s break up."
The entire booth went dead silent.
I stood there, calm and still, watching him.
"Serena, what are you talking about?" Kyle frowned, his voice dropping slightly. "I didn't say I wanted to break up. Why are you making a scene?"
Making a scene?
I almost laughed out loud.
His buddy Leo was the first to react, trying to smooth things over with a nervous chuckle.
"Serena, come on, Kyle’s just had too much to drink. He’s talking out of his ass. Don’t take it to heart."
Another guy chimed in. "Yeah, exactly. You know Kyle. He loses his filter when he’s drunk."
Before I could speak, Mia stood up from across the table.
She was wearing a delicate white slip dress, looking youthful and radiant.
She trotted over to Kyle, patted his shoulder softly, and turned to look at me with wide, innocent eyes.
"Serena, please don’t be mad. Kyle really didn't mean it that way. The vibe tonight was just so good, and he wanted to unwind a bit. You do keep him on a pretty tight leash, you know? He’s just stressed."
She pretended to play peacemaker, but every single word poured fuel onto the fire.
With Mia’s hand on his shoulder, Kyle puffed out his chest, his anger flaring back up.
"Exactly! I bust my ass at work all day, and I can't even have a drink with my friends without you micromanaging me! Being with you is choking the life out of me!"
I watched him coldly. "Which is why we’re done."
Kyle's face darkened. He glanced at Mia beside him, then sneered.
"Fine! We’re done! You think I can’t survive without you?"
I nodded, grabbed my purse from the booth, and turned toward the exit.
Leo tried to reach out. "Serena, wait, don’t go—"
As I pushed through the heavy lounge doors, Kyle’s loud voice drifted out behind me.
"Let her leave! She’s just throwing a tantrum. Give her one night, and she’ll get over it."
"Bro, you’re really not going after her?"
"Go after her? Hell no! Let me tell you guys, you can’t spoil women like her. Throwing fits every few days is a bad habit. By the time I finish my drinks and head back, she’ll be begging to make up."
A few guys chuckled.
"Kyle knows what he’s doing."
"Yeah, just ice her out for a bit. She’ll fall right back in line."
Their laughter grew louder.
I didn't turn back. I walked straight to my car and drove home.
My apartment was in the east side of the city—a three-bedroom condo I bought entirely on my own.
I put down the down payment three years ago. Back then, Kyle and I had only been dating for three months, and he was living in a dingy shared rental.
I still remembered the day we signed the closing paperwork. He held my hand at the real estate office and smiled.
"You’re amazing, babe. I’m going to work hard and make tons of money so I can help you pay off the mortgage."
He had been so sweet back then. When he smiled, his eyes curved like crescents, and his lips were always coated in sweet promises.
I took a hot shower, slipped into my pajamas, and lay down in bed.
My phone buzzed several times on the nightstand. Messages from Kyle.
Kyle: *Did you make it home?*
Kyle: *I was just wasted. Don’t be dramatic.*
I didn't reply.
Then he sent a voice memo. I didn't play the audio; I just converted it to text.
"Serena, I was just talking big in front of the boys. You know how it is. Stop taking everything so seriously, okay? We’ll talk when I get home."
Humiliating your girlfriend and dragging her down in front of your friends is called 'talking big'?
I flipped my phone face down on the nightstand and closed my eyes.
Hours later, half-asleep, I heard the deadbolt click.
He was back.
"Serena! Serena!"
He called out, his speech slurred and heavy with alcohol.
I didn't move.
Heavy footsteps stumbled toward the bedroom, and the door was shoved open.
He walked to the edge of the bed, peered down at me, and muttered, "Stop pretending you’re asleep. Go get me a glass of water."
I remained completely motionless.
He stood there for a few seconds, then suddenly snapped, slapping his hand hard against the mattress.
"I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?"
I opened my eyes and looked at him in silence.
The moment our eyes met, my cold stare seemed to burn right through him. His bluster deflated almost instantly.
He took a step back, his voice dropping into a grumble.
"Fine, fine. I’ll get it myself, happy?"
He went to the kitchen for water, stumbled back into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the mattress like a dead weight.
Within two minutes, his loud snores filled the room.
I rolled over onto my side and stared at his youthful face.
Twenty-six years old. Clean jawline, nice features. In his sleep, he looked like an innocent boy who hadn't been tainted by the world.
Who would have guessed that just two hours ago, that very same face had twisted into something so cruel?When I woke up the next morning, Kyle was still fast asleep.
I didn't bother waking him.
I arrived at my office and handled my schedule as usual.
I worked in brand strategy and marketing. I wasn't at the very top of the industry, but I had built a solid reputation, a loyal client base, and good connections over the years.
I had two meetings in the morning and finalized a new campaign with a client in the afternoon. Everything was smooth and routine.
Except my phone stayed completely silent.
Kyle didn't reach out, and neither did I.
In the past, this kind of silence would have driven me into a panic.
I would have worried sick—wondering if he was angry, if he was holding a grudge—and I would have caved, blowing up his phone with texts and calls to smooth things over.
Not today.
Today, the silence felt like the sweetest relief.
At six-thirty in the evening, I drove back to the condo.
When I unlocked the door, the aroma of garlic, butter, and glazed ribs hit my nose.
Kyle poked his head out from the kitchen wearing an apron, a wide, dazzling smile plastered across his face.
"You're home! Go wash up. I cooked your favorite glazed pork chops."
I stood by the entryway, watching him without taking off my coat.
Seeing that I hadn't moved, he set down his spatula, walked over, and slid his arms around my waist with a playful grin.
"I was awful yesterday. I drank way too much and ran my mouth without thinking. Forgive me, please? I wanted to apologize the second I got back last night, but the liquor hit me so hard I couldn't keep my eyes open."
He looked up at me, his eyes wide and pleading.
"When I woke up today, all I could think was, how could I talk to my girl like that? I’m such an idiot. Babe, please don’t be mad, okay?"
*Babe.*
In the past, whenever he softened his voice and looked at me like that, my heart would melt.
Today, that word grated against my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
"Kyle," I said evenly. "We’re already broken up."
His smile froze instantly.
The hallway went dead quiet.
"Alright, that’s enough," he muttered, dropping his arms from my waist as his smile turned brittle. "I already apologized. What more do you want from me? Stop being dramatic. Let’s just eat."
"I’m not being dramatic." I held his gaze, delivering every syllable with absolute clarity. "I am dead serious. We are over. Pack your things and move out."
Kyle's expression finally shattered.
He stared at me, scowling, as if trying to figure out whether this was an elaborate bluff.
After a few long seconds, his face darkened completely.
"Serena, are you for real right now?"
"Yes."
"Over a few stupid drunk comments?" His voice spiked. "I didn't hit you, I didn't cheat on you! I just had a few drinks and vented some frustration! Are you seriously throwing our relationship away over that?"
I said nothing.
He let out a harsh, contemptuous laugh.
"Fine! Break up! Let me tell you something—at your age, who else is going to want you? You’re thirty-one! An old woman! You really think you can do better than me?"
Those words were meant to cut like a knife straight into my chest.
Oddly enough, it didn't hurt at all.
Maybe because I had already heard it last night.
Or maybe because the nastier he got, the more relieved I felt that I was walking away.
"So you admit it?" I asked calmly. "What you said last night wasn't the alcohol talking. That’s what you’ve truly thought all along, right?"
Kyle froze, caught off guard.
"You think I’m annoying and controlling," I continued, my voice steady. "You think I’m too old for you. You only stayed with me because I took care of you, cooked for you, and paid for your life, didn't you?"
His lips parted to argue, but not a single sound came out.
His silence was the loudest confession.
I let out a faint smile.
"Then this breakup is a blessing for you, isn't it? You’re free now. You can go chase after all the fresh young girls you want. Like Mia. Isn't she great?"
Kyle’s face flashed with guilt and panic. "Why the hell are you bringing her up?"
I didn't feel like wasting another breath. "You have one week to get all your stuff out of my apartment."The moment the words "move out" left my mouth, Kyle completely lost his temper.
"I’m not moving anywhere! Serena, you have no right to kick me out!"
"This is my apartment," I said, locking eyes with him. "My name is the only one on the deed. I paid the down payment, and I pay the monthly mortgage. You’ve lived here rent-free for three years without contributing a single cent. Now that we’re broken up, telling you to leave is entirely legal and completely fair."
Kyle’s face turned bright red, his lips trembling with rage.
"What... what are you doing? Keeping score now?" he snarled. "What about my three years of youth? I’m twenty-six, and you’re thirty-one! I gave you the best years of my life, and now you’re throwing me out onto the street?!"
*The best years of his life.*
The sheer absurdity of it made me laugh out loud.
"Kyle, you lived in my home, drove my car, wore the clothes I bought you, and ate the food I put on the table. Your paycheck couldn't even cover your personal spending, so I had to subsidize you every single month! You gave me your best years? Tell me, what exactly have you brought into my life over the past three years?"
He was completely struck dumb.
The apartment hung in thick, suffocating silence.
Finally, he ground his teeth and spat, "I never agreed to a breakup, so we aren't broken up!"
Then he slammed the front door shut and stormed off.
For the next three days, Kyle didn't come back.
I knew exactly where he was.
Leo had posted a series of photos on his Instagram story. They were at a swanky VIP club downtown.
In the photos, Kyle had his arm draped snugly around Mia’s bare shoulders, grinning like an idiot.
I set my phone aside and continued packing Kyle's belongings into cardboard boxes.
He probably thought that by giving me the silent treatment for a few days, I would freak out like I used to—that I would crumble, text him frantic apologies, and beg him to come home.
What he didn't realize was that these three days were the most peaceful, relaxing days I had experienced in three entire years.
On the fourth afternoon, I was in the middle of a team meeting at work when the front desk paged me, saying a guest was waiting in the lobby.
I walked out to the reception area and saw Mia standing by the entrance.
She was wearing a pastel pink oversized hoodie, holding a branded paper bag from an upscale bakery, smiling like a harmless little angel.
"Serena!" she called out cheerfully, walking up to me. "I brought you a treat! Kyle mentioned you were craving cheesecake from this bakery, and I just happened to be passing by, so I grabbed a slice for you."
*Kyle mentioned it.*
*Kyle asked her to bring it.*
How utterly thoughtful.
"Thanks," I said flatly, taking the bag without opening it. "Is there anything else?"
Mia blinked, seemingly surprised by my icy indifference.
She bit her lip, took a step closer, and lowered her voice conspiratorially.
"Serena, honestly, I came here today because I wanted to talk to you about Kyle."
"Talk about what?"
"Well..." She put on a troubled, heartbroken expression. "Kyle’s been in such a terrible mood these past few days. He’s drinking every single night. It hurts my heart just watching him like that. Serena, why don’t you just forgive him? He really didn't mean what he said that night. He only said those things because he cares about you so much!"
Cares about me so much?
"You think I should forgive him?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course!" Mia reached out and grabbed my hand, her tone oozing sincerity. "Serena, you guys have been together for three whole years! Think about all that history! You can’t just throw it away over one little argument, right? Besides, all Kyle talks about is you! He acts tough, but he’s so soft inside. He keeps saying how much he loves your cooking, how you always bought him the coolest limited-edition sneakers, how sweet you were to him..."
Her voice trailed off, dropping lower.
"...And he said... you’re older than him, so you really should be the bigger person and let things slide."
*Be the bigger person.*
I saw right through it.
Kyle didn't want to swallow his pride to apologize; he had sent Mia as his little messenger to manipulate me into backing down.
He thought he knew me inside and out. He thought I was a pushover who would melt at the slightest appeal to emotion.
What he didn't understand was that my heart had already been smashed to pieces on that club floor.
"Mia, thanks for the errand," I said coolly, pulling my hand away from hers. "But whatever happens between Kyle and me is none of your business."
Mia's face stiffened for a second.
"Serena, you don’t think there’s something going on between Kyle and me, do you? We’re just friends, I swear! Please don’t get the wrong idea."
I stared straight into her eyes. "Whether there's something between you two has nothing to do with me anymore."
With that, I turned on my heel and walked back into the office.Back at my desk, I unlocked my phone and saw a new post Kyle had just uploaded to his Instagram story.
It was a picture of a coffee table covered in empty liquor bottles.
The caption read: *Some people walk away, and suddenly all the drinks in the world aren't enough.*
A comment underneath asked: *Bro, did Serena really dump you?*
Kyle had replied with a flood of crying emojis.
Looking at the screen, I felt nothing but disgust at his desperate theatrics.
He was putting on a show for his entire social circle.
*Look at me, look how deeply in love I am, how could she be so heartless?*
When I got home after work and pushed open the front door, I froze.
Kyle was sitting on the living room sofa. On the coffee table in front of him sat two iced lattes and a box of pastries.
He was dressed in a crisp, newly bought white button-down, his hair freshly styled, looking sharp and boyish again.
Seeing me come in, he stood up, his posture slightly cautious.
"You're home?" His voice was remarkably soft. "I brought you coffee from that cafe you love."
I didn't close the door behind me. I stood right by the entryway, watching him silently.
Seeing that I wasn't moving, he took a few steps forward and reached out to hold my hands.
I immediately stepped back.
His hands hung in midair. The nervousness on his face rapidly hardened into embarrassment, and then into raw humiliation.
"Serena." He took a deep breath. "I know I messed up. I really do. Everything I said that night was total garbage. I hate myself for it. Just give me one more chance, one last chance, please?"
His eyes turned red, and his voice began to choke up.
If this had happened in the past, seeing him like this would have shattered my resolve.
But today, as I stared at his teary act, I noticed a tiny detail.
The corners of his eyes were completely dry.
He was performing an emotional breakdown, but there wasn't a single real tear.
"Kyle," I said, my voice eerily calm. "We are finished."
His facade instantly collapsed.
"What the hell do you actually want?!" he bellowed, every ounce of gentleness vanishing into thin air. "I came here groveling, begging on my knees, and you’re still treating me like trash?! Who the hell do you think you are?!"
He stepped right into my personal space, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Let me tell you something, Serena! A thirty-one-year-old woman landing a guy like me was a stroke of damn luck! Fine, you want to break up? Go ahead! I can’t wait to see what kind of loser you end up with next!"
He grabbed the iced latte from the table and hurled it onto the floor right in front of me.
The plastic cup burst open. Coffee splattered across the hardwood, splashing against the walls, and the pastry box flipped upside down into the mess.
"Don’t you dare come crying back to me!" he yelled, pointing a shaking finger at my face, a manic gleam in his eyes. "You dump me, and nobody on earth will ever want you!"
Watching his rabid tantrum, the very last shred of sentimentality I held for him vanished into thin air.
"Get your things and get out within the week," I said coldly.
"I’m not leaving! This is my home!"
I pulled out my phone and held up the screen, displaying my text history with my attorney.
"I’ve already consulted legal counsel. You are classified as a gratuitous guest. If you don’t vacate the premises, I will call the police and have you physically removed for trespassing."
Kyle stared at me as if he were looking at a complete stranger.
"You... you’re really going to call the cops on me?"
"I’ve never been more serious in my life," I scoffed. "You’re the one who thought my words meant nothing."In the end, Kyle didn't leave voluntarily. I had building management kick him out.
On the fifth day after our breakup, he still showed zero intention of packing his things. I went down to the leasing office and brought up the building manager along with two armed security guards.
In front of three uniformed witnesses, Kyle’s face turned the color of raw liver.
He hurled a barrage of vile curses at me before furiously stuffing two duffel bags full of clothes and storming out into the elevator.
Once he was gone, I hired a professional deep-cleaning crew to scrub the entire apartment.
I threw out the mattress, the sheets, the pillows, and replaced every single lock on the door.
When the crew finished, I took a long, hot bath, sat on the fresh sofa, and looked around. The apartment suddenly felt so much larger, so much lighter.
My phone started buzzing relentlessly.
The moment Kyle realized he had lost his free luxury housing, he began blowing up my phone. I declined a dozen calls in a row before blocking his number.
Then he started calling from other numbers—Leo’s phone, and several mutual acquaintances.
I blocked every single one without hesitation.
Next, he created burner accounts on Snapchat and Instagram to spam my DMs with friend requests. His messages read:
*Serena, you want to play this dirty? Don’t blame me for what happens next.*
I left them unread.
I never imagined just how low he could stoop.
The next morning, the moment I walked into my office, several colleagues gave me strange, uncomfortable looks.
Chloe, a younger designer who had always been close with me, waited until no one was around before pulling me aside into a corner.
"Serena... did you and Kyle really break up?"
"Yeah."
"So... are the things he’s saying true?"
"What is he saying?"
Chloe hesitated for a moment before unlocking her phone and handing it to me.
Kyle had posted a massive essay in a massive group chat that included mutual industry friends and former colleagues.
The gist of it was:
He had spent three years tolerating my controlling, nagging nature, giving me unconditional love and patience. Yet over one tiny misunderstanding, I had heartlessly kicked him out into the cold. I didn't even give him a single dime to help him relocate, and I sent security guards to throw him onto the street like trash.
He painted himself as a devoted, brokenhearted victim.
Meanwhile, I was painted as a cruel, calculating, neurotic older woman.
People were commenting beneath his post:
*Holy crap, that’s insane!*
*Kyle, bro, that’s rough. You wasted three years on a woman like that.*
*Is she psycho? Does being thirty make women that bitter and twisted?*
*Honestly, I always thought she wasn't good enough for Kyle anyway. He was way too good for her.*
Scrolling through the comments one by one, I actually smirked.
The second I refused to be his personal ATM and maid, I instantly became a "bitter, twisted old woman."
Chloe watched me carefully, whispering, "Serena, aren't you furious?"
"What’s the point of getting mad?" I handed the phone back to her. "People can talk all they want. Lies don't change the truth."
Saying it was easy, but pretending it didn't sting at all would be a lie.
During lunch, I sat alone at the cafe downstairs, staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass at the bustling city streets, feeling a sudden wave of deep isolation wash over me.
Not because I missed Kyle, but because of how absurd this world could be.
Just then, my phone rang.
Caller ID: Marcus Vance.
Marcus was the CEO of Sterling Group, our agency’s biggest corporate partner.
Thirty-four years old, brilliant, and notoriously known throughout the corporate world as an uncompromising workaholic.
We had collaborated on a massive campaign for over six months. We had met several times, but our conversations had always been strictly professional.
He had never once called my personal number outside of business hours.
I hesitated for a second before answering.
"Hello, Mr. Vance."
"Serena," his voice came through the speaker—deep, steady, carrying a calm, magnetic authority. "I heard you broke up with your boyfriend?"
I caught my breath.
Did corporate gossip travel that fast?
"You’re well-informed, Mr. Vance," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. "Don’t worry, my personal life won't interfere with the campaign’s delivery timeline."
Silence stretched across the line for two beats.
Then, he said something that made my heart violently skip a beat.
"I’m not calling about the campaign."
His voice was quiet, yet each word was impossibly distinct.
"I’m calling to confirm if you’re officially single."
Chapters (5)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Watch & Promotions
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