Simp No More, Thanks

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.] Chapter 1 [Tomorrow's the big 8-year ShayLey anniversary! Shay-Shay booked the amusement park! PROPOSAL ALERT. Ley-Bae, unblock him! Marry him already!] I stared at the feed. Nose stinging. Yeah, I caved. Almost took him off the blocklist—almost—when the property manager texted: [Ms. Landon, Mr. Raffield says you two broke up. Please pay $44.45 for this month's utilities. Also, he's calculated eight years of dating expenses: $5,844.10.] My blood straight-up froze. Next second, I Venmo'd the money. Then I packed my stuff, clipped the leash on my corgi, and walked out. Before I left, I sent one last message: [I'm generous—no need to split the dog expenses from the past eight years. I'm taking the dog. You and me? We're square.] *** Dragging my suitcase, leash in hand, I stood at my best friend's door. Opened it—and there he was. Shayne. Half-reclined on the couch. Shirt undone. Vanessa—my best friend—was straddling him like some low-budget porno. She jumped up the second she saw me, yanking her top back in place. Shayne blinked, slow. Eyes met mine, and all the color drained from his face. "What are you doing here?" His voice? Full-on panic. It hit like a knife. Pudding whimpered at my feet. Not even half a day post-breakup, and he was already wrapped around her. My so-called best friend. My nails dug into my palms. Didn't even feel it. The Chat Feed lit up: [LEY-BAE, CRY! If you stay calm, Shay-Shay'll think you don't care!] [Shay, hello? Her hands are shaking. FIX. IT.] [Vanessa totally set you up. Got you drunk, made you think she was Ley. Just explain, bro!] Vanessa's eyes flickered smug before she switched to pity mode. "Leyla, it's not what it looks like. Shayne loves you." "It's not what it looks like?" I dropped the suitcase. Four bloody crescents stared back from my palm. "So him crashing on your couch three hours after we broke up—and you on top of him—was just bad timing? Or was I supposed to wait till you two got naked?" The Chat Feed spiraled: [LEY. SWEAR. FROM ABOVE, NOTHING HAPPENED.] [Vanessa's a snake. She's been plotting this. Wanted you to walk in.] Vanessa's face darkened. Shayne stepped up, yanked her behind him, eyes all unreadable pain. Chapter 2 "Vanessa's right. This isn't what it seems. But us? That ended the second you blocked me. Don't ever show up again." His words slammed into me. I looked at him—and just like that, he felt like a stranger. "Shayne Raffield," my voice shook, "do you really think I'm that pathetic? That I'd come crawling back after YOU dumped me?" His brow twitched. Vanessa's lipstick was still smeared across his collar. "I didn't think that." "Yeah? 'Cause that's EXACTLY how you act." My voice cracked, loud and sharp. Pudding paced at my feet, anxious. Shayne had that look again—the one he wore every time he blocked me, waiting for me to beg. Smug. Condescending. Like he still had me on a string. The Chat Feed popped off: [Shay's such a stubborn jerk. He's obsessed with Ley but pretending he's some cold-hearted bad boy.] [Ugh, Ley too—blowing up just feeds that manipulative witch's drama kink.] Shayne's fingers twitched. His Adam's apple jumped. Still, nothing. I exhaled hard. Exhaustion hit like a brick. "Forget it. I'm done. I don't want to fight anymore. You won't see me again." Before he could say a word, I scooped up Pudding and walked away. *** I checked into a hotel, suitcase dragging behind me. The Chat Feed blinked like it was having a meltdown: [How is Ley this calm? She just walked away from eight years like it was nothing!] [Shay-Shay LOVES her—he just sucks at showing it!] [Poor Shay-Shay. Orphaned young, and now Ley's leaving too. This is a TRAGEDY!] "Tragedy?" I snapped, slamming my makeup bag on the vanity. Pudding flinched. Eight years, and Shayne treated me like his personal customer service line. He's the victim? Seriously? What about me—the girl who gave everything? Two years ago, I turned off my phone to host the company gala. In two hours, I had 32 missed calls. The last text? [If you disappear, we're done.] That night at 3 AM, I stood outside his place in high heels and a cocktail dress—for five hours. All he said was, "Realize your mistake?" Whenever it rained, his umbrella only covered him. I'd be soaked, and he'd smirk, "Now you've got an excuse to change at my place." Back then, I thought that was love. Cute. Couple stuff. But last month, when a car sped past and splashed mud everywhere—he shoved me into it. I just stood there, drenched and dumb, asking why he didn't pull me back. He buried his face in my neck and mumbled, "Babe, I've gotten so used to relying on you... I figured you'd protect me." I knew something was off. But I stayed quiet—because I loved him. There are a million ways to love. In our mess of a story? I was the strong one. He was the human version of a 'protect me' button. Until now. Shayne—yeah, the same guy who always hid behind me—suddenly turned into Captain Shield, throwing himself in front of Vanessa. Lipstick still smeared on his collar, arms out like some wannabe hero. Chapter 3 That's when it hit me—he could love someone. He could protect her. Eight years with him, and not once did he ever do that for me. Pudding curled up by my feet, those big, worried eyes locked on me. I ran my fingers over his head. Tears slipped down, hot and sharp like they were trying to leave scars. Still, I muttered, "It's fine. It's done." I didn't need saving—I could handle better solo. Then my phone lit up. [Ms. Landon, are you available tonight at 8 PM? Elysium Lounge. I'd like to discuss the Selvora branch lead position with you.] —Mr. Cadwell, HR Director. *** I shook my head, ditching the emotional junk. Quick rinse, makeup on, bag over my shoulder—I was out. Elysium Lounge had that chill, lowlight vibe. Mr. Cadwell was already there, standing the second he saw me. "Ms. Landon. Long time." I slid into the seat across from him and ordered an iced Americano. He got right to it—offering me the lead role at the new Selvora branch. We were just getting into the juicy details when— "Leyla Landon!" Cue the chaos. Shayne yanked my wrist hard enough to snap something. Eyes wild, voice shredded. "You're really leaving me—for HIM?!" Mr. Cadwell blinked. "Sir, I think you're misunderstanding—" "Misunderstanding?" Shayne's laugh was pure chaos, eyes unhinged. Next thing I knew, he had Mr. Cadwell by the collar, fist cocked. "Shayne!" I jumped up, wedging myself between them. "Haven't you done enough? You literally told me to disappear. Said we were done. So what is THIS?" And because things weren't messy enough—enter his buddy—Andy. "Leyla," he huffed, already in attack mode, "if we hadn't been here chillin', Shayne would've stayed clueless. The guy's been wrecking himself over you, and what do you do? Use him up and bounce to the next?" I shot Shayne a look. "That what you told them?" He couldn't even meet my eyes. Classic. "We were together EIGHT YEARS," I said, voice shaking. "From houses to takeout, I paid my share—even when everything was under your name. "I once had fifty bucks to my name, and when you said, 'Let's split the soup'? I didn't blink. "Our total shared living costs? You didn't even break $6K. And after we broke up, you demanded it all back—so I paid. Every. Cent." I stepped in. He backed off. "Wasn't that enough for you? And now you drag your crew in here to blow things up? What are you trying to prove?" Shayne's fist stopped mid-swing. Breathing hard, but still couldn't meet my eyes. Andy and Mr. Cadwell just stood there, jaws basically on the floor. Then—heels, fast and furious—Vanessa barged in. Vanessa gasped, all fake-shocked. "Leyla! If Andy hadn't called, I wouldn't have known you'd already moved on. No wonder you dumped Shayne outta nowhere." She latched onto Shayne's arm like some cloying perfume ad. "Shayne, let it go. Don't ruin her date. Just move on—you'll thank yourself later." His eyes flashed with pain, but he kept staring at me, like I owed him something. Chapter 4 I took a breath, ice-cold. "Shayne, stop. Stay out of my work—and out of my life." His gaze held for a beat... then finally dropped. Vanessa yanked him off, but not without throwing me one of those smug, I-win smiles. Andy looked like he wanted to speak up, but in the end, he just walked away. The Chat Feed exploded: [Ahhh! Shay-Shay's just jealous! He still loves her! Asking for the money back was just his way of getting her to talk to him again!] [Ley doesn't get it—Shay-Shay's all bark, no bite. He's already humbled himself so much and she STILL won't give him a shot? Like, yeah, he says dumb stuff, but what guy doesn't have some pride?] [Ley's getting way too full of herself. It's lowkey annoying. She's gonna regret losing someone as loyal as Shay.] I sank back into my seat, face unreadable, and took a sip of my coffee. Bitter. Just like the last eight years. Mr. Cadwell looked a little shaken. "Ms. Landon, are you alright?" I shook it off, pulled on my best corporate smile. "Sorry you had to see that. Let's get back to business." He slid the transfer papers over. I didn't even blink—just signed. The pen scratched across the page like slicing clean through eight years of my life. "The Selvora branch is yours now," he said, patting my shoulder. "And if things ever get tough—work or otherwise—HQ's got your back." "I'll be fine," I said, calm and steady. "I'll report in the day after tomorrow." Booked my flight for tomorrow night. Then headed back to the hotel. The Chat Feed just wouldn't quit: [Don't be sad, Ley-Bae. Shay-Shay really DOES love you. He just sucks at showing it.] [Yeah, yeah, he didn't grow up with love. You need to be more understanding.] Understanding? Hadn't I already done enough of that? I had a 102-degree fever, couldn't even sit up. Shayne blocked me because I didn't reply while he was working late. It was Pudding—sweet, frantic Pudding—who barked like crazy and pawed at the neighbor's door until someone got me to the hospital. What a freaking joke. I grabbed my phone, opened the gallery. Our old lock screen photo—both of us smiling like love was enough. Reality check? I exhaled slow, hit delete. Then I just let go, collapsing into bed as the tears finally came. Pudding jumped up, licking my face like he was trying to patch me back together. I clung to him, burying my face in his fur. Eight years gone—it burned. But deep down, I knew: A clean cut hurts less than a slow bleed. I cried until I knocked out. In my dream, we were back in college. Shayne still had that warm, goofy smile. He used to run all over Monterra hunting for heating pad when I had cramps. Used to stay up all night just so I wouldn't fail another econ final. So when did it all flip? Maybe it was the first time he blocked me. Or the first time I said sorry just to end his silent treatment. Maybe it was when I stopped being me and turned into whoever he needed. Yeah. I'd simped long enough. I was done. The next morning, I took one last lap around Monterra—my home for eight years, and the place I was finally leaving behind. The sun was warm, streets familiar. Pudding trotted beside me. Chapter 5 Somehow, I ended up outside the amusement park. The same one where Shayne and I had our first date. Memories hit like a sucker punch. At eighteen, he won me a giant stuffed bear right here. At twenty, we came back every year like it was our thing. "Woof!" Pudding barked, yanking me out of the nostalgia spiral. I looked up. Right under the Ferris wheel stood a full-blown pink floral castle, balloons swaying like it was straight out of a rom-com. It was the proposal setup—I'd imagined it a thousand times. My chest tightened. I took a step closer, like my body was moving without permission. Dead center in the crowd: Shayne, down on one knee in a sharp suit. And in front of him, glowing in white dress—Vanessa. I froze. My phone buzzed with a calendar alert: [Eight-Year Anniversary Today.] What a freaking joke. He used our anniversary... my dream proposal spot... to propose to my ex–best friend. The Chat Feed lit up like a slot machine: [Ley, don't look! It's all a setup!] [Vanessa told Shay her parents were pressuring her to get married. She begged him to fake it!] [This was supposed to be YOUR proposal, not hers!] A setup? Please. Shayne never lifted a finger unless he wanted to. This? He agreed to. Loud and clear. I let out a bitter laugh, spun on my heel, and headed straight for the hotel. No drama. No tears. Just me and my suitcase, already packed. I rolled it to the airport in silence. Pudding padded along beside me, unusually quiet—like he knew. Security, check-in, done. I sat at the gate, killing time on my phone. Then—bam. Vanessa's post popped up on my feed: [Finally said yes at twenty-eight.] Attached: a shot of her hand flaunting the ring. The ring. The exact one I'd stared at with Shayne in that shop window. Twice. My face didn't even twitch. I gave it a like. Phone buzzed. Unknown number. I picked up. Shayne's voice came through, all smug and sure of himself. "Leyla, I KNOW you're jealous. You finally gave in, huh? This is your shot—apologize, mean it, and maybe I'll forgive you." I didn't say a word. Then—loudspeaker in the background: [Passenger Leyla Landon, please proceed to Gate 12 for flight MV1234.] Silence. Then his voice cracked like thunder. "Leyla?!" Glass shattered. "Which airport are you at? Answer me!" I could hear him running, breath heaving, panic rising. "I'm ordering you—tell me where you are. NOW." The Chat Feed was melting down: [Shay's spiraling!] [He's wrecking the place! I heard a limited-edition action figure bite it!] Behind him, a voice pleaded, "Mr. Raffield, the acquisition meeting—" "Get out!" Shayne shouted. "Cancel everything!" Tires screeched. He must've bolted into the street. "Can't you at least tell me where you're going?" His voice cracked—fragile, raw, like I'd never heard it before. Boarding call again. Still didn't speak. Just hit 'end.' Then, right before blocking his number for good, I heard it— "Leyla—!"