Naomi tried to focus on her work, ignoring the text message,eyes glued to the screen as her fingers flew over the keyboard. But her phone buzzed again — and again. Jeremiah's name didn't appear, only strange numbers she didn't recognize.She'd already blocked and deleted his number once, twice — desperate to shut out the noise he dragged behind him. But the calls kept coming, relentless and impossible to ignore. Each ring was like a crack in her carefully built walls, threatening to shatter her fragile calm.She fought the urge to pick up. But as the hours dragged on, the unknown numbers multiplied, the buzzing growing louder, more urgent. It wasn't just persistence anymore — it felt like a storm swirling at her door, impossible to shut out.
Finally, exhaustion won. With a shaky breath, she unlocked her phone, fingers hovering over the call button, trapped between fear and the desperate need for answers.The screen lit up, but before she could decide, another message popped up — this one colder, sharper, impossible to ignore.
The message popped up on Naomi's screen, sharp and unexpected: I need my stuff back, Naomi.
She couldn't help but let out a short, annoyed giggle. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she shot back, Your stuff, or the one belonging to the other lady you were cheating with? Well, I'm busy.
Jeremiah had rented that apartment just a month before they broke up. They hadn't lived there together, but Naomi had started to think of it as her second home — a place tangled with memories and half-forgotten promises.
What she didn't know was that while she was away, Jeremiah had moved another woman into the apartment, something Naomi never suspected, never expected.
The thought twisted in her stomach as she stared at the screen, the weight of betrayal settling heavier with every passing second.
If Jeremiah hadn't been so meticulous during that period — leaving papers scattered, documents she needed tucked away in folders labeled with her name — Naomi might never have stepped foot in that apartment again. It was only to retrieve those files that she had returned, unsuspecting, to a place that no longer felt like hers.
As she pushed open the door, a faint scent lingered in the air—something unfamiliar, a hint of someone else's presence. Her heart caught, but she forced herself forward, convincing herself it was just her imagination.
Minutes after sending her biting reply, her phone buzzed sharply, yanking her from the swirling memories that threatened to consume her.
Jeremiah's name flashed across the screen.
The call pulled her back, dragging her away from the wounds that had just begun to open wide.
She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen before finally swiping to answer.
"I need all my stuff back," Jeremiah's voice came through, sharp and cold. "I don't care what you think anymore, Naomi."
well,it's good you don't care, Naomi said and hanged up.
Meanwhile,the call had ended minutes ago, but his voice still lingered in her head—sharp, cold, and void of the man she had once believed would never hurt her. Her gaze drifted to the half-empty coffee cup on her desk, though she wasn't really seeing it. Instead, she saw the early days—the charm that slid off his tongue like honey, the way he'd made her feel chosen in a world where she often felt invisible.But now, with the weight of truth pressing on her chest, those memories felt like a cruel trick. The man she had loved had never truly loved her back. He had loved the reflection she created for him—polished, accommodating, devoted. She was an accessory to his ego, not the center of his heart.
The realization burned, even though it wasn't new. She had ignored the signs—his lingering glances at other women, the casual lies that he swore were misunderstandings. By the time she understood the game he'd been playing all along, it was too late.
The damage was done, her heart fractured in places no one could see.Her fingers tightened around her coffee mug, as if holding it together might somehow hold her together. The office felt colder than usual, shadows pooling in the corners as if they, too, knew what she had lost.A soft knock at her office door broke through the fog in her head. It wasn't the polite kind of knock from a colleague—it was hesitant, as if whoever stood on the other side of the door was weighing whether they should even be there.
"Come in," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
The door eased open, and Tasha slipped inside, her usual confident stride softened into something more tentative. She studied Naomi's face for a moment, as if reading the storm that still lingered there."You look like you just got off the phone with the devil," Tasha said lightly, but her eyes carried the weight of concern.
Naomi gave a humorless laugh. "Close enough."
Tasha shut the door behind her, leaning against it as though to block out the world outside. "Do I even have to guess who?"
Naomi didn't answer right away. Instead, she traced her thumb along the edge of her coffee mug, staring at the faint lipstick stain left behind.
"It's funny," she murmured, "how some people leave, but they still know how to bruise you from miles away."
Tasha crossed the room and perched on the edge of Naomi's desk, tilting her head. "And yet… here you are, still standing."Naomi smirked faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Standing doesn't mean unbroken."Before Tasha could respond, Naomi's phone buzzed again on the desk between them. Both women glanced at it.
Speaking of the actual devil,Tasha said angrily. The air between them seemed to tighten,charged with something unspoken.
Are you going to answer that?Tasha asked slowly.
Naomi hesitated a bit,her hand trembled as she reached for the phone, not from fear of him, but from the avalanche of memories that clung to his voice.
She hesitated, her thumb lingering over the answer button, the way a swimmer stands at the edge of dark water, knowing the cold will steal their breath. Then, almost in defiance of her own better judgment, she swiped.
The line clicked alive.
"Naomi," Jeremiah's voice came—smooth, clipped, and without the warmth she once fought so hard to believe was real. " I said need all my stuff back.
Naomi leaned back against the couch, her eyes narrowing. "Your stuff?" Her tone was a blend of disbelief and restrained venom.
"You came into my apartment and took things that aren't yours," he continued, his words sharp, deliberate. "And now you won't return them?"
A bitter laugh escaped her. "Consider it a punishment," she said, every syllable like a blade. "Or… you could go get a lawyer and sue me, if you're so desperate for your precious things."
He inhaled sharply, but she didn't stop. Her voice lowered, steadier, almost mocking. "Moreover, those things—the laptop and everything else—were bought in my name. Or have you forgotten? I saw you changed the Apple ID to her name. Jennifer, isn't it? The girl you cheated on me with and moved into your house."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Why don't you both leave me alone… and enjoy?"
There was a pause—just long enough for her to picture the tightening of his jaw. Then, without another word,the line went dead.
The silence that followed wasn't relief. It was the kind of quiet that presses against your ribs, reminding you of all the things you'd rather not remember.
A reminder she never asked for, but couldn't escape—that Jeremiah never truly loved her. He had only loved the idea of her, the shine she carried before the cracks began to show. She had fallen for a player, and by the time she realized it, her heart was already in ruins—broken, shattered, and left for someone else to step over.
Her fingers tightened around the phone, nails digging into her palm, as if pain might keep her here in the present, instead of in those moments she wished she could unlive.
Come on girl, don't be sad, come let's go get lunch, Tasha said, trying to light up her best friend mood.
Meanwhile,