It had been three months since I’d last seen my long-distance boyfriend, Alex. Then, out of the blue, he texted to say he was coming to see me, that he’d bought a train ticket and would be arriving tomorrow morning. I was ecstatic. I pushed myself to finish a major project, working until two in the morning. I begged my boss for the next day off, willingly sacrificing my perfect attendance bonus. But the next day, I waited at the station until two in the afternoon, and he never showed. Then, my phone buzzed with a message from him. Babe, you didn't actually believe me, did you? I just wanted to make you happy for a minute. It's not a big deal, you can just go back to work now! 1 A final string in my mind, stretched taut for months, finally broke with a deafening twang. I felt the blood drain from my body, only to rush back and pound in my ears. My hand, clutching the phone, trembled so violently I thought the screen might shatter under the pressure. For his so-called surprise, I had pulled an all-nighter and given up my bonus. I had run on three hours of sleep to get to the train station, where I waited for six solid hours like a complete idiot. And now he was telling me it was all just a joke? I immediately called him back. He actually answered this time, his voice syrupy with a lazy smile. "What's up, babe? Miss me already?" "Alex!" It took every ounce of my willpower not to scream in the middle of the bustling station. "What the hell are you doing?!" "Hey, don't be mad," he said, his tone utterly carefree. "I just wanted to test how much you love me. Seeing you take it so seriously honestly made me so happy. You must feel so loved right now, right?" Loved? All I felt was a chilling cold that seeped into my bones. "I took a day off for you! I gave up my bonus! I've been waiting here like a fool for hours! And you call that a joke?" My voice shook with rage. "Alright, alright, my bad," he said, switching to his usual tactic of feigned remorse. "I was wrong, okay? I love you, that's why I wanted to mess with you a little. I'll Venmo you double for the bonus. Don't be mad, sweetie." There it was again. Every time he pulled one of his cruel "pranks," every time he made me furious, he would smooth it all over with a half-assed apology and a casual "I love you." And every single time, I had forgiven him, telling myself that long-distance relationships were just hard. "Alex," I took a deep breath, my eyes stinging. "I'm just… so tired." "I know, I know," he promised instantly. "Next week! I swear, I'll buy a ticket and come see you next week, for real this time! If I'm lying, you can call me a dog!" Listening to his earnest vow, my resolve crumbled. I hung up. In the station bathroom, I stared at my reflection. My makeup was smudged, dark circles shadowed my eyes. I looked pathetic. This is the last time, I told myself. The absolute last time. 2 A week later, Alex actually came. When he showed up at my door, dragging a suitcase behind him, he had a sheepish, eager-to-please grin on his face and my favorite cheesecake in his hand. In that moment, I’ll admit, the resentment that had been building for a week mostly melted away. "No joke this time," he said, pulling me into a hug. "I missed you like crazy." I believed him. I naively thought that the last incident would have been enough to teach him where the line was. But I had forgotten a simple truth: some habits are impossible to break. His visit coincided with a critical turning point in my career. My team was in the final stages of pitching for a massive client. If we landed this account, I was in line for a promotion to Project Manager, not to mention a six-figure year-end bonus. I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in two weeks. The afternoon Alex arrived, I was in the middle of my final push for the presentation the next day. I got him settled in and apologized. "Can you entertain yourself for a bit? Watch some TV, play some games? I have to nail this presentation tonight. After tomorrow, I'm all yours, I promise." He smiled, the picture of a supportive boyfriend. "Go, go. Work is important. Your future is my future, right?" I was so moved by his words that I dove headfirst into my work, completely losing track of time. At 10 PM, I finally finished the last data check and polished the final slide. I saved the file and stretched, ready for a relaxing shower. As I walked through the living room, I saw Alex on my laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "What are you looking at?" I asked casually. Without looking up, he grinned mysteriously. "A little surprise! I thought your presentation was a bit boring, so I jazzed it up for you. I guarantee the client will be blown away. They'll sign on the spot!" A cold dread washed over me. "You touched my presentation?!" I lunged for the laptop. But he held it up like a trophy, turning the screen toward me. "See? I changed their stuffy old logo into a smiley face flashing a peace sign. Way more friendly, right? And here—the financial charts were so dry, so I added some 'make it rain' memes. Much more festive!" I stared at the screen, at the abomination he'd made of my work. My blood ran cold. That presentation was the product of countless sleepless nights, of more than thirty revisions. "Alex, are you insane?!" I shrieked. "This is a formal business proposal, not your YouTube channel!" "Jeez, why are you always so serious?" he scoffed. "It's the 21st century. Nobody wants to see that old, boring crap anymore. It's called innovation, ever heard of it? I was helping you." "I don't need your help!" I was shaking with fury. I snatched the laptop back and frantically tried to find the original version. But it was too late. Not only had he modified the file, he had also hit "save." And to make matters worse, he'd deleted the backup I had saved to my desktop. "It's fine, it's fine," he said, completely unconcerned. "I think my version is way better. Just use it. You'll kill it." I looked at his face, devoid of any remorse, and for the first time, I felt a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. I stayed up all night, redoing the entire presentation from scratch. 3 The next day, I walked into the conference room feeling like a hollowed-out shell of myself. Running on pure adrenaline, I began my presentation. Halfway through, during the market analysis section, a massive image suddenly filled the screen. It was a picture of the stern, square-jawed CEO of Blue Ocean Capital, photoshopped onto the body of a husky. Next to it, in bright, cartoonish letters, was the caption: "OUR BOSS IS A TOTAL STUD!" The room fell dead silent. I could literally hear my own heart stop beating. The lead representative from Blue Ocean Capital, his face a mask of thunder, stood up abruptly. Without a word, he and his team walked out of the room. My director, a kind, soft-spoken man, looked at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated disappointment. His lips moved, but only three words came out. "You're done here." I don't know how I got out of that building. I floated home like a ghost. Alex was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, engrossed in a video game. He saw me and grinned. "So? Did my creative genius blow them away? Did they sign the contract right then and there?" I stared at him, my chest heaving. A fire was raging in my throat, so hot I couldn't speak. My silence finally seemed to clue him in that something was wrong. He put down his controller. "What's up? You look awful. The pitch… it didn't go well?" "Didn't go well?" I finally found my voice, a ragged, raw sound. "It was a goddamn catastrophe! Alex, my job, my promotion, my entire career—you've ruined everything!" I lost it. The dam of frustration, rage, and despair that had been building inside me finally burst. I screamed, a raw, primal sound, and swept everything off the coffee table. Faced with my complete breakdown, Alex didn't show a flicker of guilt or concern. He just stared for a second. And then, he pulled out his phone and aimed it at me. "Babe, you know, you look kinda cute when you're freaking out," he said, a grin in his voice. "I gotta get this on video. For the memories." He pressed the record button. That single action was a poison-tipped knife, twisting into the softest part of my heart. Memories? He wanted to commemorate this? The moment I hit rock bottom, the moment he single-handedly destroyed my future? "Aaaargh!" I launched myself at him, snatching the phone from his hand. With all the strength I possessed, I slammed it onto the hardwood floor. CRACK! The screen spiderwebbed with a sickening crunch. It wasn't enough. I lifted my foot and stomped on it, again and again, until the phone was nothing but a pile of unrecognizable plastic and circuits. "You destroyed my future! How can you stand there and say it's not a big deal?!" My eyes were bloodshot, tears and screams mixing into a choked, desperate sound. My sheer ferocity seemed to shock him out of his stupor. He stared at the wreckage of his phone, his smirk finally gone. "Sarah, are you serious?" he snapped, his own anger flaring. "It's just a job! You can find another one! You smashed my brand-new phone over something so stupid?" "Stupid?" I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound. "In your eyes, the months of work I poured into this, the career I was building for myself, that's just something stupid?" "What else would it be?" he shot back, his jaw tight. "Your boss has no sense of humor! And besides, I came all this way to see you, and all you've done is work! Where do I fit in?"
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