The Pop-Up Truth

The Pop-Up Truth

Gavin

5.0
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My phone screen lit up, not with a text, but a stark, black-and-white pop-up. "Ethan' s SAT scores: 1580. Stanford bound with Tiffany. You' re the 'just in case' girl." Just moments earlier, my childhood crush Ethan, whose father my own dad died saving, feigned despair over "disastrous" SAT scores. He'd gently coerced me, the valedictorian, to give up my dream school for State College, all for "us." These mysterious pop-ups, visible only to me, had always been unsettlingly, terrifyingly right. This one revealed his calculated deception: he'd aced his SATs and was going to Stanford with his new girlfriend, Tiffany. My heart turned to ice. I was his backup plan, a discarded pawn. The betrayal escalated at his lavish graduation party where he publicly humiliated me, painting my sacrifice as my idea. Then, with Tiffany's cruel suggestion, he trapped and locked me in a dark utility closet. The final blow: he brazenly showed my ailing mom a faked State acceptance letter, causing her to suffer a heart attack. As I sat by her hospital bed, watching her struggle for breath, a cold rage ignited. How could the boy whose family owed us everything be capable of such cruel manipulation? My dad died for his. Why was I his pawn? What were these pop-ups? But in that sterile room, watching his continued charade, something inside me snapped. I slapped him, hard. No longer a confused victim, I saw him for what he was: a manipulative abuser. This wasn't the end of my story. This was the beginning of my fight to reclaim it.

Introduction

My phone screen lit up, not with a text, but a stark, black-and-white pop-up.

"Ethan' s SAT scores: 1580. Stanford bound with Tiffany. You' re the 'just in case' girl."

Just moments earlier, my childhood crush Ethan, whose father my own dad died saving, feigned despair over "disastrous" SAT scores.

He'd gently coerced me, the valedictorian, to give up my dream school for State College, all for "us."

These mysterious pop-ups, visible only to me, had always been unsettlingly, terrifyingly right.

This one revealed his calculated deception: he'd aced his SATs and was going to Stanford with his new girlfriend, Tiffany.

My heart turned to ice. I was his backup plan, a discarded pawn.

The betrayal escalated at his lavish graduation party where he publicly humiliated me, painting my sacrifice as my idea.

Then, with Tiffany's cruel suggestion, he trapped and locked me in a dark utility closet.

The final blow: he brazenly showed my ailing mom a faked State acceptance letter, causing her to suffer a heart attack.

As I sat by her hospital bed, watching her struggle for breath, a cold rage ignited.

How could the boy whose family owed us everything be capable of such cruel manipulation?

My dad died for his. Why was I his pawn? What were these pop-ups?

But in that sterile room, watching his continued charade, something inside me snapped.

I slapped him, hard.

No longer a confused victim, I saw him for what he was: a manipulative abuser.

This wasn't the end of my story.

This was the beginning of my fight to reclaim it.

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

Short stories

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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