Opening Nicolas Cleave’s profile, I only found a few scattered complaints, but it was enough for me to guess his identity.
“She got her nails done again today. My mom said women like this are impossible to live with. Who knows if those things might affect having kids.”
“So, what if she earns a bit of money? Even her boss at the company looks at her weirdly. Who knows what kind of nonsense she’s been doing behind my back.”
Scrolling through these posts, I couldn’t help but laugh out of anger.
This was probably a burner account Nicolas had created just to insult me. We had been dating for a year, and the account’s earliest post was from ten months ago. I had to give him credit for keeping up the pretense for so long while holding so much resentment toward me.
After comforting the people tagging me for this, I closed the app.
Just then, Nicolas messaged me.
“Baby, New Year’s coming up. Do you want to spend it at my place? My parents are looking forward to meeting you.”
I casually replied, “No, I’m busy.”
Nicolas, completely unaware that I had seen through him, continued putting on his act.
“Aw, what’s keeping you busy, baby? I already told my mom I’d bring you home. What am I supposed to do now?”
I didn’t reply.
Soon, he sent another message: just a question mark.
I tapped my fingers on the back of my phone, thinking it over.
Not long ago, Nicolas had borrowed one hundred thousand dollars from me, claiming he needed startup capital for his business. Because of our relationship, I hadn’t asked for an IOU, but the transfer record and the note saying “loan” were perfectly clear.
Breaking up with him outright would be letting him off too easy. I needed to get my money back, and I wasn’t going to let him have it easy either.
“Fine, I’ll go.”
