I didn't want to stay and let them humiliate me any longer.
I texted my advisor that I wasn't feeling well, then went back to the dorm alone, early.
I'd barely reached the foot of the building when I spotted my mother chatting away happily with the dorm matron.
The second she saw me, she frowned and asked, impatient, "Why are you back? How did Debbie do on stage?"
When she learned I'd left early, she couldn't hold it in. Her voice shot up.
"You're absolutely useless! I sent you to cheer your sister on. You can't even clap? I raised you all these years for nothing!"
The matron seemed unable to watch it any longer, and stepped in to smooth things over with a compliment. "This girl's a good one. Simple, down-to-earth."
My mother gave a cold snort, and right in front of every passing student, she started tearing me down at full volume.
"Simple? She's twisted inside, is what she is! Eaten up with jealousy! If she hadn't thrown herself at him and refused to let go, why would a boy as fine as our Michael ever have looked at her?"
Then she turned around and gushed about Debbie, her whole face lit with showing off. "Now, our Debbie's a different story. Beautiful and brilliant, and everyone loves her! Michael even booked out a whole floor at a five-star hotel to celebrate her, throwing her a whole victory banquet!"
The matron looked confused. "Isn't Michael Audrey's boyfriend?"
My mother waved a dismissive hand.
"Oh, please, a man looking after his girlfriend's little sister, that's only natural!"
"At the end of it all, our Debbie's just the lucky one. People can't help but adore her."
I stood there listening to those poison-tipped words, unable to move for a long moment.
In the end, under the matron's eyes and the strange looks of everyone around me, I climbed the stairs in silence.
I no longer had the strength, or the will, to argue anything.
Back in the dorm, as if something guided my hand, I opened my mobile banking app.
I tapped into the joint account Michael and I had set up together, the one for the down payment we'd promised each other.
We'd agreed to put money into it every month, saving up for our future.
But the number glowing red on the screen stabbed at my eyes.
Balance: 0.00.
I opened the transaction history and scrolled through it, line by line.
One charge from that jewelry store we'd once browsed together, for exactly the price of the necklace he'd given Debbie.
Another, from the five-star hotel where he'd said he was throwing Debbie her victory banquet.
He'd used the money we'd saved to plan our future, and spent it on his present with another girl.
I screenshotted the emptied account and sent it to Michael, with one line: "I don't want the money."
He didn't reply.
Half an hour later, his social media updated.
In the photo, he and Debbie sat in a lavish private room, heads bent close together, cutting a cake.
The caption read: "May my princess stay carefree forever."
The moment I saw that photo, my tears broke through again.
After they'd run dry, I calmly opened the chat and sent Michael one last message.
"Let's break up."
