I didn't hesitate. I changed the shipping address to Ruby's apartment and hit Buy Now.
The payment cleared instantly.
"Nice! Same city, so I'll send a courier now. Confirm receipt the second you get it? Need the cash ASAP."
A cold smile touched my lips.
"Okay. Send it."
Less than an hour later, the package arrived at Ruby's door.
The shoebox was pristine, seal unbroken. The custom greeting card I'd requested from the manufacturer was still tucked into the side gap, untouched.
He hadn't even opened it.
"Wait—aren't these the sneakers you bought for Aiden?" Ruby frowned. "What's going on?"
I handed her my phone. She scrolled through the Mercari logs, her expression frosting over with every swipe.
"That scumbag." Her jaw tightened. "What's the plan? March to campus and slap the soul out of him?"
I shook my head. "Too easy."
He dared to cash out on my affection? I wouldn't be satisfied until he lost everything.
Another message popped up.
"Hey, tracker says delivered. Can you confirm? Really need the funds—waiting to buy my girlfriend a birthday present."
My fingers froze.
Girlfriend?
My birthday was in October. It was March.
Who was he buying a gift for?
Ruby scoffed. "So the trash isn't just using you as an ATM—he's cheating too."
I said nothing. I tapped Confirm Receipt.
The moment the transaction cleared, I picked up a paring knife from Ruby's fruit platter and sliced a jagged line across the outer packaging.
I snapped a photo and sent it.
"Hey, just opened this. The box is damaged."
Aiden exploded.
"No way! It was perfect when I handed it off! You did that yourself!"
"You didn't check upon delivery and now you're crying damage? Trying to scam a refund? Forget it!"
"You confirmed receipt! Good or bad, not my problem anymore!"
He blocked me immediately.
A low laugh escaped my throat. That was exactly the admission I needed.
Not his problem. Perfect.
I switched to WhatsApp and dialed his number.
He answered on the second ring, his voice shifting to warm honey. "Babe? Why the sudden call? Miss me already?"
"Mhm." I kept my tone light. "Just wondering—did you get the shoes? Do they fit?"
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
"I got them," he said, slightly unnatural. "They fit, but... honestly? I'm not really feeling them."
"Oh? Why not?"
"I'm in my second year now. Need to look the part for interviews. Sneakers that cost thousands... they make me look childish." He lowered his voice. "I know you meant well, but I need a mature image. These aren't me."
I smirked.
"Then return them. The official site has a seven-day policy. As long as you haven't worn them outside, send them back. They were over eight thousand—return them, and I'll buy you something more professional."
"No!" Panic leaked into his voice.
"But you said you didn't like them."
"I... I already wore them out," he stammered. "Soles are dirty, tossed the box. Definitely can't return them."
"Is that so?" I drawled. "Never mind then. But do you really think they're childish?"
