His Cruel Joke, My Broken Heart

e, Lena, and I'll take you to prom"-was the only thing that mattered. I starved

e promise was a cruel joke. To him and his real girlfriend, Gigi, I was just

ver caring for me. He then got my Stanford scholarship revoked with a malicious r

loved my whole life, the one who was supposed to be my protector

on move-in day, buzzing with excitement for our shared future, I let

t here,

pte

he next, the world spun, and I crumpled to the gym floor. Black s

a promise. "Get in shape, Lena, and I'll take you to senior prom," he' d whispered last su

desperately wanted. A future where I wasn't just "Ele

struggle no one truly understood. Medications, hormonal imbalances, the relentless cravings

les screamed. I denied myself every comfort, every craving. My nutritionist warned me about th

ed for a few hours, forcing down some juice, then got back to work. Today was Damian' s eighteenth

ial recipe, something healthier he wouldn't even notice, but still rich and decadent. Each stir

a thumping bass that matched my nervous heartbeat. I took a deep breath, adjusted my dress-a new one

urrounded by his football teammates, charismatic as always, a dazzling smile on his face. And then I saw her. Gigi

t was a picture of casual intimacy. My hands trembled, the cake nearly slipping. I

ugh the noise. "Honestly, Damian, it's exhaus

ds around them. I froze, my heart pounding in my ears. The

. "It's all part of the plan, isn't it? Keeps your reputat

hitched.

ined, leaning her head on his shoulder. "She looks ridiculous

face burned. Fat

y? For Elena to finally get it through her thick skull that I'd rather stick needles

al blow. It echoed the mean whispers I' d heard in hallways,

One of his friends asked, snickerin

nt, really. Everyone thinks Damian is just so 'nice' for tolerating her. It

a stone. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. My careful plan

ing to a seductive purr. "So, is it true? You real

t. And not obsessed with me to the point of being a total stage-five clinger. Honestly, h

, as if discussing the weather. Not

lling me down. My meticulously baked cake slipped from my numb fingers, thudding softly onto the plu

myself, every aching muscle, every hopeful thought of him seeing me, truly seei

d in my mind. Not as gestures of affection, but as twisted pieces of his performance. He had always been

hoed, not just from tonight, but from countless times before. Bullying from other kids,

. I had allowed myself to hope that he saw something in me that no one else did. Some

the tears, but I could still see the cake, discarded like my feelings, on the floor. I turned a

of a streetlamp, I crumpled to the ground and sobbed. A guttural, soul-wrenching cry that came from the deepest part of my being. M

im for making me belie

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

tter truth. Tonight, Damian had wished for me to disappear from his life. M

like ash. "You' re nothing but a cruel, cruel liar." This time, the