His Cruel Joke, My Broken Heart

His Cruel Joke, My Broken Heart

TESS WHITE

5.0
Comment(s)
5.4K
View
11
Chapters

I did everything for Damian, my childhood best friend. His promise-"Get in shape, Lena, and I'll take you to prom"-was the only thing that mattered. I starved myself and ran until I collapsed, all for the future he dangled in front of me. But on his birthday, clutching the cake I' d baked, I overheard the truth. The promise was a cruel joke. To him and his real girlfriend, Gigi, I was just a "fat pig" whose desperate attempts to impress him were "hilarious to watch." They didn't stop there. They framed me for bullying, and Damian publicly denied ever caring for me. He then got my Stanford scholarship revoked with a malicious report and stood by as Gigi plastered my most private love letters all over school. I became a pariah, a "delusional, conniving bitch." The boy I had loved my whole life, the one who was supposed to be my protector, had orchestrated my complete and utter destruction for a laugh. Yet he still expected me to follow him to college. So when he called on move-in day, buzzing with excitement for our shared future, I let him ramble on about our plans. Then, I calmly cut through his fantasy. "I'm not here, Damian."

Chapter 1

I did everything for Damian, my childhood best friend. His promise-"Get in shape, Lena, and I'll take you to prom"-was the only thing that mattered. I starved myself and ran until I collapsed, all for the future he dangled in front of me.

But on his birthday, clutching the cake I' d baked, I overheard the truth. The promise was a cruel joke. To him and his real girlfriend, Gigi, I was just a "fat pig" whose desperate attempts to impress him were "hilarious to watch."

They didn't stop there. They framed me for bullying, and Damian publicly denied ever caring for me. He then got my Stanford scholarship revoked with a malicious report and stood by as Gigi plastered my most private love letters all over school.

I became a pariah, a "delusional, conniving bitch." The boy I had loved my whole life, the one who was supposed to be my protector, had orchestrated my complete and utter destruction for a laugh.

Yet he still expected me to follow him to college. So when he called on move-in day, buzzing with excitement for our shared future, I let him ramble on about our plans. Then, I calmly cut through his fantasy.

"I'm not here, Damian."

Chapter 1

My body gave out. One moment, my legs churned on the treadmill, the next, the world spun, and I crumpled to the gym floor. Black spots danced before my eyes. This wasn' t how it was supposed to go.

Damian Cameron, my best friend since we were kids, and the boy I secretly loved, had made a promise. "Get in shape, Lena, and I'll take you to senior prom," he' d whispered last summer, his eyes twinkling. "Everyone already thinks we're a thing. Let's make it official."

His words had been a beacon. A promise of a future I desperately wanted. A future where I wasn't just "Elena, the smart girl," but "Elena, Damian's girlfriend."

I knew my weight was an issue. Polycystic Ovary Syndrome made it a constant battle, a silent struggle no one truly understood. Medications, hormonal imbalances, the relentless cravings. It felt like my body was betraying me. But Damian' s promise, that was worth fighting for.

So I fought. I cut down my food to miserable portions. I ran until my lungs burned and my muscles screamed. I denied myself every comfort, every craving. My nutritionist warned me about the rapid weight loss, about the risks, but I ignored her. Damian was worth it. Prom was worth it.

The collapse was just a minor setback, I told myself, pushing away the throbbing in my head. I rested for a few hours, forcing down some juice, then got back to work. Today was Damian' s eighteenth birthday. I couldn' t miss it. I had to show him how much I cared, how much I had changed, for him.

I spent hours in the kitchen, carefully baking his favorite chocolate fudge cake. I used a special recipe, something healthier he wouldn't even notice, but still rich and decadent. Each stir of the batter, each sprinkle of frosting, was a silent prayer. A hope for acceptance, for love.

Clutching the foil-wrapped cake, I walked to his house. The music vibrated through the closed door, a thumping bass that matched my nervous heartbeat. I took a deep breath, adjusted my dress-a new one, bought specifically for this night, hoping it flattered my shrinking frame-and pushed the door open.

The living room was packed. Laughter and loud music filled the air. My eyes immediately found him. Damian. He was surrounded by his football teammates, charismatic as always, a dazzling smile on his face. And then I saw her. Gigi Wall, the head cheerleader, draped over him, her hand casually resting on his arm. A cold dread seeped into my bones.

My gaze locked onto Gigi' s bright pink nails against Damian' s letterman jacket. It was a picture of casual intimacy. My hands trembled, the cake nearly slipping. I retreated to the doorway, trying to compose myself, to understand what I was seeing.

Gigi' s voice, sharp and saccharine, cut through the noise. "Honestly, Damian, it's exhausting. Everyone thinks you actually like her."

A ripple of laughter went through the small circle of friends around them. I froze, my heart pounding in my ears. The door was slightly ajar, giving me a perfect, horrifying view.

"Relax, Gigi," Damian said, his voice laced with amusement. "It's all part of the plan, isn't it? Keeps your reputation squeaky clean. Plus, it's hilarious to watch her try."

My breath hitched. The plan?

"But the 'fat pig' obsession is getting out of hand," Gigi whined, leaning her head on his shoulder. "She looks ridiculous, constantly trying to impress you. It' s embarrassing for us."

More laughter. My face burned. Fat pig. That was me.

"Tell me about it," Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. "My biggest wish for my birthday? For Elena to finally get it through her thick skull that I'd rather stick needles in my eyes than actually be seen with her at prom. Or anywhere else, for that matter."

The sound of their collective amusement hit me like a physical blow. It echoed the mean whispers I' d heard in hallways, the snickers behind my back. But this was Damian. My Damian.

"So, you' re just...leading her on?" One of his friends asked, snickering. "For Gigi? To make her look good?"

"Exactly," Gigi chirped, her eyes shining with malicious glee. "It's brilliant, really. Everyone thinks Damian is just so 'nice' for tolerating her. It raises my social standing, you know?" She beamed at Damian, who winked back.

My mind went blank. The cake, heavy in my hands, felt like a stone. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. My careful plan, my desperate hope, all of it turned into a grotesque joke.

Gigi then leaned closer to Damian, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. "So, is it true? You really think she's a fat pig? You find her disgusting?"

Damian let out a loud, theatrical sigh. "Gigi, you know me. I like my girls... sleek. Fast. And not obsessed with me to the point of being a total stage-five clinger. Honestly, her desperate attempts to lose weight are just sad. It' s pathetic. She just needs to stop."

He said it with such casual cruelty, as if discussing the weather. Not me. Not Elena, his childhood friend.

The laughter that erupted from the group was deafening. It swirled around me, a vortex of mockery pulling me down. My meticulously baked cake slipped from my numb fingers, thudding softly onto the plush carpet. The foil peeled back, revealing the rich, dark chocolate. A small, forgotten masterpiece.

I had spent my afternoon pouring my heart into that cake. Every calorie I denied myself, every aching muscle, every hopeful thought of him seeing me, truly seeing me. It was all a lie. A cruel, elaborate lie orchestrated by Damian and Gigi.

Suddenly, all the past moments, his casual touches, his shared secrets, his half-smiles, they all replayed in my mind. Not as gestures of affection, but as twisted pieces of his performance. He had always been so good at playing the role, hadn't he? The caring best friend. The gentle protector. It was all a façade.

Tears, hot and stinging, streamed down my face. Silent. Unbidden. The word "fat pig" echoed, not just from tonight, but from countless times before. Bullying from other kids, whispered comments from relatives. But coming from Damian, it twisted a knife in my gut.

Why did his words hurt so much more? Because I had trusted him. I had believed in him. I had allowed myself to hope that he saw something in me that no one else did. Something beyond the numbers on a scale. I thought he was different. My heart ripped open.

I stumbled back, my feet finding purchase on the slick wooden floor. My vision blurred through the tears, but I could still see the cake, discarded like my feelings, on the floor. I turned and ran. I ran past the shocked faces of guests, past the thumping music, out into the cold night.

I ran until my lungs screamed for air, until my legs buckled beneath me on a deserted street corner. And there, under the harsh glow of a streetlamp, I crumpled to the ground and sobbed. A guttural, soul-wrenching cry that came from the deepest part of my being. My body convulsed, every nerve screaming in protest. The pain was physical, a crushing weight on my chest, a burning acid in my throat.

I hated him. I hated him for making me believe. For making me hope.

A distant memory flickered through my mind. Years ago, in elementary school, when kids used to tease me for being "chubby," Damian had always been there. He'd chase them off, his small fists balled. "Leave Elena alone!" he'd shout. He even made me a custom-designed dress for a school play once, a beautiful emerald green, saying it perfectly matched my eyes. "You' re beautiful, Lena," he' d said then, his gaze soft. Where was that boy now?

The memories were both sweet and poisonous. Honeyed lies that coated the bitter truth. Tonight, Damian had wished for me to disappear from his life. My birthday wish, every single year, had been for him to finally love me back.

"Cruel liar," I whispered through gritted teeth, the words tasting like ash. "You' re nothing but a cruel, cruel liar." This time, the tears didn't stop. They just kept coming, an endless river of pain.

Continue Reading

Other books by TESS WHITE

More
The Broken King's Silent Obsession

The Broken King's Silent Obsession

Billionaires

5.0

I am Cipher, an elite operative, but the world knows me as Evita Peck-the mute, illegitimate liability of a powerful political dynasty. To protect my sister and maintain my cover, I played the role of a fragile, broken doll, enduring my stepmother's abuse in silence. Everything shattered at a high-stakes gala when my stepmother forced a drugged cocktail down my throat to sell me to a wealthy donor for campaign funds. Fighting the chemical haze, I fled to a restricted suite and collapsed into the arms of the one man I should have avoided: Jedidiah Stone, the paralyzed, reclusive "Broken King." The drug stripped away my control, leading to a night of desperate passion with the man who was my family's greatest enemy. I escaped at dawn, but I accidentally left behind a bloodstain on his sheets and fled with a classified data chip hidden in his jacket, marking me as a target for the most dangerous security force in the city. When I returned home, my mother slapped me for the "failed" deal and immediately announced I was being sold into a marriage alliance with the Stone family. Before I could process the horror, Julian Kensington-Jedidiah's deadliest rival-publicly claimed me as his secret fiancée, turning me into a pawn in their brutal corporate war. I was trapped in a deadly tug-of-war between a man who wanted to use me as a shield and a man who was hunting for the "spy" who had breached his bed. I didn't know how much longer I could play the mute victim while the two most powerful men in the country fought to possess me. The game reached a breaking point when Jedidiah invoked a "hostile asset acquisition" clause to legally force me to marry him instead of his cousin. Now, I am moving into the Stone estate, realizing that the man I am about to marry is the same man who has sworn to break the very woman I truly am.

Woke Up Married To My Mysterious Boss

Woke Up Married To My Mysterious Boss

Modern

5.0

I woke up to a rhythmic thumping against the wall of our luxury apartment. I thought it was just a nightmare, but when I pushed open the bedroom door, the reality was much worse. My fiancé, Ignacio, was entangled with a blonde on the very sofa I had paid for three months ago. When he saw me, there was no guilt in his eyes, only cold annoyance. "I'm bored of the 'good girl' act, Aria," he said, standing up with terrifying casualness. "And frankly, I'm bored of waiting for your stepfather's money to clear." Before I could even process his words, he grabbed my arm and shoved me out into the hallway. He didn't let me grab my shoes or my phone. He just tossed my trench coat at my face and slammed the door, locking me out of my own life. Barefoot and shivering in the October rain, I wandered into a speakeasy and drank until the world blurred. That’s where I met him—a man who looked like a prince and radiated a dangerous kind of power. In a drunken, desperate haze, I asked him if he was for hire. I needed a husband to spite Ignacio, and he was the most expensive-looking man in the room. "Marry me," I pleaded, and to my shock, he agreed. We hit a twenty-four-hour chapel, signed the papers, and I passed out in the back of his Maybach. The next morning, I woke up in a penthouse on Billionaire’s Row. The man, Burke, stood there in a towel and handed me a bill for fifty thousand dollars for his "overnight services." I was terrified. My family was bankrupt, I was homeless, and now I owed a massive debt to a high-end escort I had accidentally married in a blackout. I fled to a job interview at Justice Group, hoping to earn enough to pay him off and disappear. But when I sat down in the waiting room, the "gigolo" was sitting right there, wearing a suit and holding a newspaper. "Don't tell anyone we know each other," I hissed, thinking he was just another desperate applicant. "Why? Ashamed of your husband?" he teased. Then the HR assistant called our names together, and I realized my nightmare was only just beginning.

Love's Deadly Second Chance

Love's Deadly Second Chance

Billionaires

5.0

The salt spray felt the same on my skin, a cold, familiar mist. I stood on the deck of my private yacht, the Serenity, watching the turquoise water churn below. This was where I died. Not in a hospital bed, not in a car crash, but right here, in the middle of the ocean, because of the two people I thought I loved most – my fiancée, Chloe, and her precious artist, Alex. The memory wasn' t a dream; it was a scar. Pirates swarmed the deck, their jeering laughter echoing alongside Chloe' s cool, distant voice, telling them to hurry up. She had a dinner reservation. Alex, her childhood friend, had already been taken to safety while I was left to bleed out. After I was gone, she poisoned me again, finding a way to get my fortune, dismembering my body to hide the evidence of her betrayal. But then, a shock. The universe, in its cruel way, gave me a second chance. I was reborn, sent back to the start of this very day, on this very yacht, with every memory of my end searing in my mind. "Liam, darling, are you even listening?" Chloe' s voice cut through my thoughts, a beautiful, hollow sound I once adored. She glided across the deck, pouting about the captain' s refusal to wait for Alex and his "masterpiece." Alex, that talentless hack spray-painting rocks, whose "art" I'd funded for years to make her happy. The same "art" that delayed our departure last time, costing me my life when the pirates attacked. That naive, lovestruck fool of the past was gone. Now, I knew her soul, and his. My purpose was clear, simpler than mere survival. I was here to collect a debt. I looked at Chloe, my face a calm, placid mask. "Whatever you want, Chloe." Her triumphant smile was sickening. She thought she' d won, as always. She had no idea the game had just begun, and this time, I was setting the rules. Suddenly, a siren blared, sharp and urgent. A crew member, Tom, ran onto the deck, his face pale. "Sir! Pirates! Three speedboats, approaching fast from the south!" It was happening again. The exact same moment, the exact same threat. And for the first time, I felt a terrible, exhilarating certainty. They had no idea what was coming.

You'll also like

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

Catherine
5.0

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book