I Went to Care for My Sick Boyfriend, but What I Found Changed Everything and Brought Someone Unexpected into My Life — Story of the Day
Worried that my lover was too ill to even contact me back, I went to see how he was doing. However, what I discovered rocked my life and broke my trust. A few days later, the most unexpected person ever arrived at my door, and we began a journey that would permanently alter my life.
I was sitting by myself in my lovely little apartment one cool autumn day, with the sun shining dimly through the windows.
As I glanced at my phone, waiting for my boyfriend, Jace, to arrive, the orange and red leaves outside appeared to mock my anxiousness.
He had not been there in days, saying he was simply exhausted, but I didn’t agree with his justifications for not coming.
I tapped my foot nervously on the hardwood floor while fumbling with the hem of my jumper. I finally gave up and called him. Before he answered, the phone rang many times.
“Hello?” Jace spoke in a sluggish, low voice, as if he had just woken up.
“Are you sleeping?” I tried to conceal the edge in my voice as I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered after a brief pause. I apologize for not texting you. I simply dozed off. I may have a fever or something, but I don’t feel well.”
“Oh…” I was at a loss for words, so I spoke softly.
I winced as he coughed violently into the phone. His words were hurried as he said, “Look, I’ll text you later.”
“Feel bet—” I started, but before I could complete, the line died.
I tapped my fingers on the table in frustration, my mind racing. I couldn’t sit there and do nothing if Jace was truly ill. Whether he wanted it or not, I would look after him. Isn’t that what girlfriends do?
Determined, I grabbed my coat and stepped out into the cool October air. It was a brisk stroll, the kind that makes your cheeks tingle, to the store.
I imagined how appreciative Jace would be when I arrived, so I grabbed a box of throat lozenges, tea, and fresh fruit from inside.
I adjusted the bulky bag on my arm and pushed the elevator button back at his building. I usually went up the steps, but today I didn’t.
I diverted myself by humming along to a song that was stuck in my brain while the elevator hummed softly as it descended.
My heart stopped when the doors slid open. I didn’t know the woman, but there he was—Jace—with his arms wrapped around her.
They were so near that it made my stomach turn. Her face was pushed against his chest. It was more than just a hug. There was more to it.
“Looks like you’re feeling better,” I replied, breaking the silent hallway with a louder-than-intentional voice.
Jace’s face was pale as his head snapped in my direction. He stumbled, his arms slipping from the woman, “Kate…” He moved in my direction, his hand outstretched as if it would somehow make everything better. “I can explain.”
I stopped him by holding up a hand as his mouth opened. “Avoid it. Don’t, please. I promise to make you regret it if you move or speak one more time. The fruit spilled on the floor when I threw the grocery bag at him.
I turned and left without waiting for his response, my pulse racing with scorn and rage.
I was relieved that he didn’t try to stop me or call after me. He wasn’t worth it. No more.
It had been a few days since I had seen Jace with another woman in the elevator. He hadn’t even sent a pitiful apology, let alone called or texted.
I’m sorry, I’m a jerk, and I don’t deserve you, but that’s not enough. Was that asking for too much?
This unresolved matter tormented me. He seemed to be lingering in my life, like a shadow I couldn’t get rid of, therefore I was unable to let go and move on.
I made the decision that I had to confront him in order to have closure. So, my fingers shaking with rage, I texted him. A few minutes later, he answered.
@Jace:
Let’s get together at our café tonight at 6 p.m.
Our coffee shop. The location of our first date. The nerve. I did agree, though.
I sat in the corner booth, which we always selected, at six o’clock. I was surrounded by the comforting aroma of pastries and coffee.
I looked up every time the door opened, hoping to see him. Jace, however, did not appear.
I was staring at the cold tea I hadn’t touched at 7 p.m. while tapping my foot beneath the table. It was 8 p.m. and I was angry. My phone buzzed at last.
@Jace:
I am unable to attend. I find it unbearable to watch you in such sadness.
Stunned by his cowardice, I gazed at the television. Even so, what did that mean? Was it too much for him to see me?
He was playing the victim even though he was the one who had cheated. I became furious.
The anger was still burning in my chest when I eventually made it home. I muttered to myself as I stomped up the stairs.
Then I froze as I rounded the bend. She was standing outside my flat. The elevator woman. She appeared anxious, as though she had been anticipating my arrival.
“Why in the world are you here?” My voice echoed in the hallway as I yelled. I was astounded that she had the audacity to appear.
“I would like to speak with you,” she stated in a composed yet apprehensive tone. “I think I should talk to you more than that.”
I glared at her while fiercely folding my arms. I yelled, “You’re running a couple of hours late.” “I don’t want to interact with that jerk at all. He is yours to have. I turned away and struggled with my keys, wanting to end this discussion.
With a harder tone, she stated, “That’s the thing—I don’t want him either.” I was cold. “I wanted to talk to someone who understands him after I finally realized what he’s really like.”
With my hand still on the doorknob, I paused. This was crazy, just crazy. I was intrigued, though.
I sighed deeply and looked back at her. “All right. I pushed the door open and moved aside, saying, “Come in.”
I said, “What’s your name, anyway?” as she walked in.
“Ashley,” she murmured, her gaze flitting to the ground.
Reluctantly, I introduced myself as “Kate.”
“I understand,” she confessed, her face displaying shame.
I gestured for her to follow me as I made my way to the kitchen. I said, “Come on.” “I think this calls for something stronger, but I’d offer you tea.” I picked up and put down a bottle of wine that I had taken from the counter.
Ashley folded her hands anxiously as she sat at the table. “You were unaware of me,” she said. But I was aware of your existence. Jace claimed that you were terrible to him, but he also told me that he had a girlfriend. He said you made him feel unworthy, ignored him, and flirted with other men.
“What the—? He did precisely that to me! My fury flared and I exploded.
Ashley gave a slow nod. After what transpired when you caught us, I can now see that. However, I did believe him at the time. I believed that he would leave you and join me.
As I poured the wine, I muttered sourly, “Looks like the jerk fooled both of us.”
That’s the reason I’m here. Her voice was firm as she added, “I don’t want him to get away with it.”
“What do you propose?” I squinted as I asked.
Ashley flashed a cunning, wicked smirk. “Revenge,” she uttered plainly. “Are you aware of Jace’s extreme homophobia?”
Despite my fury, her statements caused me to halt and become curious. That was the start of it all.
Ashley and I quickly put our plan into action. We meticulously crafted Jace’s “interests” and uploaded pictures we had saved from his social media accounts to multiple profiles we made for him on well-known dating websites.
We pretended to be Jace and sent flirtatious messages to men who were anxious to connect.
With a winking emoji at the end, we typed, “I’m looking for someone special.” At times when we knew he would be home, we even scheduled meetings at his place.
We laughed until our sides ached at the idea of him opening his door to bewildered visitors.
We put his phone number on another website with the headline, “Night owl? For some fun, give me a call between 2 to 4 a.m.
Even though we were unable to determine the precise number of calls, Jace’s texts provided us with all the information we required. “Who are these individuals?” “Why is my phone ringing so much?” We were motivated to continue by his despair.
The last touch was the billboard concept. We created a vibrant, eye-catching poster with Jace’s happy face and the words, “Looking for a man to support and cherish,” after locating advertising space in the busiest areas of the city.
It was invaluable to watch the first billboard put up. In the car, we gave each other high fives, picturing his reaction when he saw it.
Jace kept buzzing our phones with calls and texts. “You must put an end to this,” he wrote. “Please, please, please!”
Finally, we answered.
@Me:
There is one requirement before we can cease.
@Jace:
I’ll do anything. Simply stop.
I provided him enough to cover a two-week trip to Spain. I texted him one last time when the transfer appeared in my account.
@Me:
Unfortunately, the billboards are prepaid for two months, and we have forgotten the account passwords.
Ashley and I blocked Jace’s number after I sent him that last text. Nothing else could be said. It was a strangely satisfying experience, like ending a dreadful book chapter that I had been stuck reading for too long.
We got to work organizing the trip right away. Ashley and I arrived in Spain a few days later.
Our newfound independence was perfectly accompanied by the sound of waves breaking on the shore, a bright sun, and warm air.
We ordered cold sangria, sprawled out on lounge chairs, and found a space on the beach
Ashley smiled as she turned to face me. She lifted her glass of sangria and remarked, “Best team effort ever.” Knowing she was correct, I grinned.
I acquired an incredible buddy, but I lost a horrible boyfriend. I’ve never tasted revenge so sweet.
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