I didn't yell. I didn't cry. My heart felt like a block of ice suddenly dropped into my chest.
I walked right up to their table at the fancy bar. Anders looked pale, panic in his eyes. The woman, whose name I didn't care to know, looked confused, still holding his arm.
"Nina! What are you doing here?" Anders stood up, trying to look controlled. "I didn't know you were coming."
I looked straight at the other woman, then back at Anders. My voice was low and calm, but inside, I was breaking into a million pieces.
"I see you finally met one of my co-workers," I said to him, ignoring her.
"Yes, she's a very important client," he rushed to say, pulling his arm away from the woman.
I smiled, a cold, hard smile that didn't reach my eyes. I reached out and picked up the glass of champagne sitting in front of him. It was the most expensive drink in the room.
Anders started to sweat. "Nina, stop. Don't make a scene."
I didn't listen. I looked at him, remembering every insult, every lie, every night I chose him over my sleep, my work, and my own pride. I remembered his cruel words: You're a constant weight.
"This," I said, holding the glass high, "is for the man who promised me a future."
Then, instead of drinking it, I threw the entire glass of champagne straight into his handsome face.
The room went silent. The cold, expensive liquid dripped off his perfect hair and his tailored suit. The other woman gasped. His friends stared. Anders was stunned, blinking the champagne out of his whiskey-colored eyes.
"You promised me you would change!" I said, my voice rising just enough to cut through the silence. "I spent four years being your shield, your safety net, and your fool! I gave you my time, my trust, and my body when I had nothing left to give!"
He opened his mouth to lie, to beg, to try the old routine. "Nina, don't. I'll make it right."
"No," I interrupted, the word sharp as glass. I pointed at the champagne dripping down his expensive jacket. "That is the cost of your lies. You don't want a partner, Anders. You want a servant who will wait in the shadows while you play."
I looked around the room at his circle of flashy, judgmental friends. They were already looking at him with pity and judgment. I had embarrassed him in front of his new world.
"This is it," I stated, pulling the tiny diamond necklace he had recently bought me—a peace offering, I now realized—from my neck. I dropped it on the wet table. "Keep your money. I don't need your debt."
I turned and walked away. I didn't run. I walked slowly and steadily, feeling the weight of the empty apartment waiting for me. I could hear his shouts starting behind me, a mix of rage and panic, but I didn't look back.
I reached the street and hailed a cab. As the taxi pulled away, my body finally gave out. Not in loud sobs, but in a silent, agonizing flood of tears that soaked my cheeks. The years of poverty, of loyalty, of working myself thin—it all led to this moment of public humiliation and private devastation.
When I finally reached our apartment, I didn't pack. I didn't even go inside. I went straight to the nearest cheap motel. I needed to be absolutely alone.
That night, lying in the dark, the pain became a gift. The crushing weight of the heartbreak gave me a focus I had never had before. Anders had stolen my innocence, my time, and my belief in love. He had made me a fool for the last time.
I wiped my face dry. The tears were gone. What was left was a freezing, hard determination.
He said I was a "constant weight." Now, I would show him what true weight felt like. I wouldn't just be better than him; I would make it impossible for him to breathe the same air as me.
I pulled out my old study notebooks. The future was no longer about survival. It was about power. And revenge.
Anders had thrown away the poor, devoted girl. He had no idea he had just created the ruthless woman who was going to take everything he cherished. I knew what I needed: a plan, resources, and a complete transformation of the "ugly nerd." I only needed one person to show me how.