Isn’t it funny how love can turn so easily and suddenly into bitterness.

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I hadn’t expected to see him again, certainly not here, in the middle of someone else’s wedding weekend. Yet there he was, across the room, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I stood by the drinks table, staring at him and trying to keep my hands from clenching into fists. It was ridiculous, really—how someone who could unravel your whole life could just carry on as if nothing had happened.

We’d met back in university, two opposites colliding in a way that seemed, at the time, perfect. I was the biology major, the serious one, deep in lab reports and late-night study sessions. He was the adventurous type, someone who could walk into a room and instantly command everyone’s attention. He made me laugh, pulled me out of my books, and showed me a world beyond the four walls of the lab. It was electric, us together. He used to say he loved how driven I was, how I knew exactly what I wanted. But that love had its limits, apparently.

In the months leading up to graduation, everything felt like it was falling into place—or so I thought. Then, out of nowhere a month before we were supposed to close a chapter of our lives together, it all started to unravel. He began nitpicking every little thing about me, like he was searching for reasons to be annoyed. If I laughed too loudly at a joke, he’d roll his eyes. If I asked about his day, he’d give me this bored, almost condescending look, as if I was an inconvenience he had to tolerate. It was like he’d woken up one morning and decided I was a problem that needed fixing. And then, just as suddenly, he dropped the bomb. “I don’t think I want this anymore, it’s not me, it’s you,” he’d said, barely meeting my eyes. Just like that, all those promises, all those plans we’d made together, crumbled in a single sentence. I remember staring at him, searching his face for some sign of the man I thought I knew, but he was already gone. The worst part? He blamed me, like I was the one who’d done something wrong, like my existence alone was some kind of burden he’d finally decided he didn’t want to carry.

Correction, the worst part was a week later, at graduation, I saw him pull another girl into the same bathroom we’d often snuck into between classes, sealing it with a kiss like I’d never even existed. He didn’t even have the decency to take some time afterwards before jumping into a new girl.

Now here we were, a year later, and he looked like the breakup hadn’t left a mark on him at all. Like I was just a chapter he’d skimmed through and closed, while I’d been left wondering what the hell I’d done to deserve the sudden cold shoulder. I could feel his gaze flick toward me every so often, and every time, a fresh wave of anger flared up, hot and sharp.

Tonight, I’d keep my distance. But if he wanted to play nice, to smooth over the mess he left in my life, he was in for a surprise. No, tonight, I wasn’t here to make him feel better. If he tried to make small talk, I was ready. I wasn’t the same girl who’d once put him at the center of her world. Not anymore.

Good luck, Travis, because you’re in for a night of hurt.

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