The morning light pierced through the curtains of my old bedroom like a judgmental finger, pointing out the emptiness I'd created. I woke with a start, the sheets twisted around me from a night of restless tossing. The guilt from ending things with Elena weighed on me like an asteroid I couldn't push away—fatal mistake, born from my weakness for temptation. The almost-kiss with Valentina, the number exchange with Elaine... I thought breaking up was honorable, sparing her from a flawed partner. But lying here, staring at the ceiling, I realized I'd misread everything. Elena was my heart—her curves, her laugh, her strength. The age gap never mattered; she was 35, I 22, but our love was timeless. Now, I'd thrown it away, and the pain was a constant ache.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand—pulling me from the spiral. A text from Elaine: "Thinking about you... last night was fun. When can I see you again? ;)"
I stared at the screen, guilt twisting harder. Last night with Elaine—the kiss, the near-mistake—flashed back. Her lips like fire, body pressed against mine... but it was wrong. All of it. I typed a reply, then deleted it. What was I doing?
Another buzz—Elena: "We need to talk."
My heart slammed against my ribs. After a quick shower—hot water doing nothing to wash away the regret—I groomed hastily, trimming my beard, splashing cologne. I needed to see her, explain, fix this. Mum was in the kitchen, making breakfast, her eyes still puffy from Dad's betrayal. "Morning, love. You okay? You look like you didn't sleep."
"I'm fine, Mum. Just... heading next door. Elena wants to talk."
She nodded, concern etching her face. "Be careful with her. She's... complicated."
I kissed her cheek. "Love you."
The walk to Elena's door felt like miles—heart pounding, mind racing. I knocked—softly at first, then firmer. She opened it—dressed casually in yoga pants and a tank top that hugged her curves, her raven hair loose, face unreadable. "Come in," she said, voice neutral, stepping aside.
We sat in the living room—same couch where we'd shared so many passionate nights. She crossed her arms, eyes meeting mine. "You've moved on already," she said flatly. "I saw her leaving your place this morning."
Shit—she saw Elaine. I hesitated, nervous—throat dry. "Elena... it's not what you think."
She laughed—a sad, bitter sound that cut like a knife. "Isn't it? You end things, and the next day she's sneaking out at dawn? I guess I was right—you needed freedom."
"No—" I started, but the memory of the guy she'd brought home surged back. The rage I'd felt—smashing satellites in blind fury, debris raining like my shattered heart. "I'm pretty sure you've moved on too. I saw that guy you brought home. He didn't leave until morning. So you clearly fucked him."
Her eyes widened, then she laughed again—sad, not mocking. "Oh, Alex... you think that?"
I couldn't contain my emotions—yelling now, voice breaking. "How could you think this is funny? You tell me we should see different people, and the next day you bring another man home? What's worse is he didn't leave until morning—so yeah, you fucked him! That's why I met with her—because of what you did!"
Elena shook her head, tears glistening. "It was a test, Alex. A stupid, foolish test. I saw how you looked at Valentina that night—the almost-kiss. You're still young, and I thought maybe you've confused love with lust. So I told you we should date other people—to give you freedom, to see if you'd fight for me. Not actually fight, but... show you cared enough to say no."
I stared—numb. "A test?"
She nodded, voice soft. "The guy you saw? Random from a bar—the first attractive one who wasn't a creep. I brought him back knowing you'd see, to push you. As soon as we were inside, I knocked him out with a light blow to the back of his head. He was out like a baby until morning. Nothing happened. I just... wanted to know if you'd come back for me."
My body felt numb—cold shock washing over me. I'd accused her of betrayal, when it was all a ploy. "Elena... I'm sorry. I—"
"It's okay," she interrupted, wiping a tear. "I know you've started seeing someone. She's younger, cuter... more your type." Her voice cracked, but she held steady—bold, direct, open.
"She's not—"
"Alex, honestly, it's ok. I was foolish to play a silly game rather than tell you how I truly feel. But well... it doesn't matter anymore."
I tried to speak—"Elena, please, I need to tell you—"
She stopped me—"Alex, it's fine. Let's end this conversation as friends."
My heart shattered—like glass under a super punch. It was a real goodbye this time. I had to let her know something wasn't right about Elaine—about all of it. "Elena, please—"
"Alex, it's fine to be honest. Let's end this conversation as friends." She opened the door—gesture final. "I guess I'll see you around then."
I walked out—dejected, crushed. It felt like it took an eternity to leave her house, flashbacks assaulting me: seeing her for the first time over the fence, her confident pose in the bikini; nights in the garden, her moans under moonlight; discovering her secret identity as Thick Chick, the thrill of becoming her sidekick; battles side by side, powers syncing; loving her—unrestricted, passionate, our bodies crashing like meteors. How had it come to this?
Back next door, I collapsed on my bed—staring at the ceiling, emotionless. Mum knocked later. "Alex? Dinner?"
"Not hungry," I mumbled.
She entered anyway—sitting beside me. "What's wrong, love? You look like the world's ended."
"It's... Elena. We broke up."
Mum's face softened. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry. But maybe it's for the best. She's older... different life."
I shook my head—tears stinging. "It was my fault. I... messed up."
She hugged me. "You'll be okay. You're young. Plenty of time."
I nodded—but the pain was raw.
That night, a news alert pinged: "President to Marry New Girlfriend After 1 Month of Dating." I opened it reluctantly—I could care less about these things. The president—a 65-year-old man—beaming with a younger 40-year-old woman, absolutely stunning, simply breathtaking. Then my eyes snapped to the image: the necklace. WTF. This wasn't coincidence anymore. All these women—the same necklace, all at the center of relationship breakups. Something big was going on.