From Victim to Victor

From Victim to Victor

Gavin

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The downtown coffee shop was just another Tuesday, another latte, until a voice from five years ago sliced through the mundane. Jessica, holding a ridiculously expensive handbag, scanned me with eyes full of judgment, then dropped a bombshell: Ethan, my ex, still mentioned me. He'd soared to success, made millions, yet, according to her, he never forgot "the girl who just disappeared," the one who supposedly "accused him of not understanding her." The twisted narrative continued, painting him as the heartbroken victim, me as the obsessed, unfaithful one who used him as a "substitute" for a ghost. My hand clenched on my purse, the old lies churning my stomach, the memory of public shame and private agony flickering back. But the old pain dissolved into pure clarity as I looked her straight in the eye: "I'm married, Jessica. And my son is turning four next month."

Introduction

The downtown coffee shop was just another Tuesday, another latte, until a voice from five years ago sliced through the mundane.

Jessica, holding a ridiculously expensive handbag, scanned me with eyes full of judgment, then dropped a bombshell: Ethan, my ex, still mentioned me.

He'd soared to success, made millions, yet, according to her, he never forgot "the girl who just disappeared," the one who supposedly "accused him of not understanding her."

The twisted narrative continued, painting him as the heartbroken victim, me as the obsessed, unfaithful one who used him as a "substitute" for a ghost.

My hand clenched on my purse, the old lies churning my stomach, the memory of public shame and private agony flickering back.

But the old pain dissolved into pure clarity as I looked her straight in the eye: "I'm married, Jessica. And my son is turning four next month."

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When Love Turns to Ash

When Love Turns to Ash

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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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