My Superstar Ex Hated Me

The girl I dumped became Hollywood's biggest star. At her wedding press conference, a reporter asked her, "Who do you think you owe your success to the most?" She gave a cold, mocking smile and replied: "I'd like to thank my ex-boyfriend. He's the one who used every cruel trick in the book to force me out of his life when I hit rock bottom." "He taught me that before you make it, all love is fake." Just like that, I was branded across the internet as a heartless freeloader and a pathetic gold-digger. Netizens tracked down my Ins account. Scrolling through my sad, broken daily life, they only laughed. Is this what happens to parasites who fumble the bag? I stood in the shadows at her wedding, took one last look at her, and leaped into the icy river without hesitation. Before I died, I posted my final voice note to Ins—only, I accidentally posted it to the official game account I still had access to. And the ex-girlfriend who claimed she hated me with every fiber of her being fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably, begging me to come back. "Julian, honestly... go home and get some rest. Travel somewhere you've always wanted to see. Don't waste the little time you have left." The doctor rubbed his tired eyes, gazing down at my chart with unconcealed pity. I had already made peace with this. I gave a slight nod, clutched my medical files to my chest, and pulled my coat tight as I walked out of the clinic. Five years ago, I was diagnosed with advanced melanoma. An incurable curse. The fact that I had survived this long was already a miracle. The moment I stepped out of the hospital, my cracked phone began to buzz violently. "Julian! How many days have you called in sick this month? Do you even want this job?" "Don't bother showing up tomorrow. You're fired!" Before I could even apologize, all I got was the flat beep of a disconnected line. After getting fired from the tech studio, it had taken everything to land this low-end waiter job. Now that was gone, too. Zero income left. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Then again, why would a dead man need money? I looked up at the massive LED billboard across the street and froze. It was Mia Vance. My ex-girlfriend. Five years ago, an uncredited extra. Today, an A-list superstar. Back then, she ran from audition to audition in Hollywood, begging for two-line roles. Today, she was America's sweetheart. Her face was plastered across every screen, every magazine, every luxury campaign in the city. I stared at her bright, radiant smile for a long time. My phone chimed with a friend request. It was Mia. She had sent two brief messages: Have you seen where I am today? Thanks for walking out on me when I was at my lowest. It made me who I am. I stared at her brilliant smile on the screen, my heart aching, and typed just one word back: Congratulations. Her reply followed immediately: Meet me tomorrow afternoon. The local bus route was suspended for maintenance today. Looking at the two-mile walk on my GPS, I realized I couldn't even afford an Uber. I had to walk. The sky was breathtakingly blue today. Even in this coastal city, we rarely got skies so clear. I walked under the warm sun, a weak smile forming on my lips. Even the heavens seemed to be celebrating my impending demise. They didn't want me lingering in this world any longer either. My place was a dump—an illegal prefab shack built on top of a derelict apartment building in the industrial slums. I dragged my aching body up the narrow, foul-smelling staircase, stepping through trash and clutter, only to find a crowd gathered right outside my door. A city code enforcement officer stopped me in my tracks. "Woah, hold on, kid. You can't go up there. This whole rooftop structure is an illegal hazard. The demolition crew is tearing it down right now!" My voice came out dry and hoarse. "Sir... all my stuff is in there. Can I please just grab a few things?" He looked me up and down, muttering under his breath, "Living in a dump like this, what could you possibly own that's worth saving?" I wrapped my thin jacket tightly around myself and squeezed past the clean, well-dressed neighbors. They instinctively leaned away, dodging me as if I carried the plague. I knew why. They were avoiding the grime on my clothes. I kept my head low and carried out a high-end designer duffle bag. I deliberately covered it with a beat-up burlap sack so no one would notice it. Leaving the alley behind, I walked aimlessly through the neon-drenched city, surrounded by the laughter of evening crowds and street vendors. An overwhelming, suffocating grief crawled up my chest. Tears blurred my eyes. This city was ablaze with millions of golden lights, yet not a single one was burning for me. I checked into a cheap, twenty-dollar roadside motel just to get through the night. After all, I had to see Mia tomorrow.The next afternoon, I put on the custom tailored suit Mia had once bought me, strapped on an expensive watch, and stepped into our old coffee shop. It was the same café we used to frequent five years ago. Nothing had changed. My eyes naturally drifted to the corner booth where we always sat. A woman was sitting there quietly, wearing a face mask, dark sunglasses, and a designer bucket hat. But no matter how disguised she was, I recognized her in a heartbeat. It was Mia. I stared at her, utterly dazed. For a brief second, time seemed to rewind to those sweet, simple days when I could hold her tight and tell her I loved her with reckless abandon. But I knew I couldn't be greedy. Fate had already granted me too many unearned miracles. I swallowed the lump in my throat and slipped into the seat across from her. Without even looking up at me, she spoke: "You're here, Julian." Her voice was as melodious as ever, clear and bright. She asked coolly: "How have you been lately?" I kept my sunglasses and mask on. My voice was raspy with exhaustion, but I forced a light, cheerful tone. "Never better. Great career, a nice house, a luxury car, healthy as an ox. Got a gorgeous wife and an adorable kid. Life's good." Mia let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Is that so? Funny, when I signed the brand ambassador contract with your old gaming studio, they told me you were fired years ago." My gaze drifted out the window toward the giant digital billboard. It was an ad for the mega-hit video game, Second Life. And Mia was its face. Second Life was the game I had personally designed from scratch. I was the lead creative director. But shortly after my cancer diagnosis, the company decided I was a liability because I couldn't pull eighty-hour workweeks anymore. They found an excuse to fire me. Worse, before letting me go, they forced me to sign over all intellectual property rights for pennies. Just as I had envisioned, Second Life had become a global phenomenon. One out of every five people in the world played it. That game was my entire life's work. Mia pulled down her mask, revealing a smile that was breathtakingly gorgeous—and utterly frozen. I couldn't even come up with a lie in time. I lifted my paper cup, frozen for a second, and faked another chuckle. "Come on, indie game dev doesn't pay real money anyway. I quit that scene ages ago!" Mia's expression grew colder, her tone dripping with disdain. "Didn't you tell me that creating the ultimate game was your lifelong dream? It's only been five years. Did you forget that already?" She sneered slightly. "Then again, it makes sense. You promised you'd love me forever, too, didn't you? And then you dumped me the second things got rough." "That's just who you are. Vows, dreams... to you, nothing matters more than money." Her words pierced my heart like a serrated blade. She wasn't wrong. When I left her, she was on the verge of entering that massive national reality talent competition. She had scraped together every cent she had just to pay the entry fees. She relied entirely on my paycheck just to eat. And that was precisely when I walked out on her. In her eyes, I was nothing more than an absolute, irredeemable scumbag. All interest in talking to me seemed to vanish in an instant. She set down her cup and pulled her mask back up. Mia brushed off her sleeves as if sitting across from me was tainting her pristine designer clothes. Seeing her get ready to leave, desperation flared in my chest. "Where are you going? Are you leaving already?" Mia cast a freezing glance at me. "I'm getting married. Are you coming?"I don't remember how I walked out of that coffee shop. I don't even know when Mia walked away. All I knew was that I held a gold-embossed wedding invitation in my trembling hands, walking aimlessly down the cold streets. Eventually, I hid in a shadowy alleyway, staring at the engagement photo of her and her fiancé. His name was Scott Evans. A newly minted A-list actor. He and Mia had debuted around the same time and supported each other through Hollywood's brutal ranks. Their marriage felt like an organic fairy tale to the rest of the world. I knew he was handsome, wildly successful, and glowing with health. But God, I was so jealous. Because he was marrying the only girl I had ever wanted to spend my life with. I ended up ducking into a cheap, greasy internet café. I took off my tailored suit, carefully packed it back into the duffle bag, threw my old worn-out hoodie on, and slumped in front of a flickering computer monitor like a dirty gutter rat. Mia and Scott's faces beamed brightly from the screen. Today was Mia's first official promotional livestream for Second Life. Mia, who had never cared for video games, was surprisingly engrossed in the gameplay, completely forgetting to interact with the chat. The chat, however, didn't care. Millions of fans were raving about the upcoming wedding. [Mia is so brave! Announcing her wedding without hiding it like other fake celebs. Love her!] [Obviously! Mia is pure talent. She never had to flirt or use men to get to the top!] [I've been shipping Mia and Scott since their rookie days! Finally canon! Best day ever!] [I'm just a casual viewer, but damn, they look so perfect together!] Among the waves of praise, there were other voices. Cruel, aggressive voices. Not aimed at Mia. Aimed at me. [Hey, remember that ex-boyfriend Mia mentioned when she announced the engagement? I found his Ins!] [Girls, attack! Spam that gold-digging freeloader's account!] [LMAO, imagine watching the girl you abandoned become an A-list queen. Is he crying blood yet?] [He's definitely punching the wall right now. What a loser!] My Ins page had already been swarmed by their fans. They mocked my pinned posts—tips on how to survive on supermarket free samples, how to find cheap rooms to rent, where to buy clearance bread. I scrolled through the sea of death threats and hate comments with an expressionless face. Suddenly, one specific direct message caught my eye. It was from Scott Evans. Mia's fiancé. It was short: Julian, Mia told me everything about your past. All I can say is, you threw away an angel. You personally broke the heart of the woman who loved you most. Now that she's on top of the world, don't you dare try crawling back. You were never worthy of her. My entire body went numb. The ache in my chest hollowed me out completely. How could I not know she was a miracle sent from heaven? Five years ago, the doctor handed me my death sentence with melanoma just as Mia made it through the brutal preliminary auditions. I knew she had the talent and the beauty to go all the way. I couldn't drag her down into my rotting grave with medical debt. Yet, after all these years, reading Scott's words still tore through my soul. With heavy dark circles under my eyes, I sat frozen in the hard chair. Tears blurred the glowing monitor. Slowly, the world around me faded into complete darkness.When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a sterile hospital ward. Grandma was slumped over the edge of my bed, fast asleep. I didn't dare move, terrified of waking her. She was my only family left in this world. She was so frail; a grandmother should never have to bury her grandson. Outside the window, a massive digital billboard displayed Mia's wedding announcement. The constant flashing lights hammered against my optic nerves. I could feel the sharp, shooting pains in my skull, the malignant cells beneath my skin pulsing with agonizing heat. My hand clutched that gold invitation so tightly my knuckles turned white. I wanted to slide out of bed quietly to use the bathroom, but my legs had zero strength. Not wanting to wake Grandma, I didn't press the call button. I simply reached down and took her wrinkled hand. Her skin was ice-cold. Guilt washed over me. What a terrible grandson I was. She was so old, and I had promised her a comfortable life in a beautiful home. Instead, she had spent her final years crammed into that rotting rooftop shack with me. I rubbed her hand between my palms, desperately trying to warm her up. But no matter how long I held her, she stayed cold. Freezing cold. Dread crashed down on me. I hauled my upper body up with shaking arms and held two trembling fingers under her nose. No breath. Nothing. No. No, this can't be real! She's just sleeping deep! Summoning every ounce of adrenaline left in my broken body, I shook Grandma's stiff shoulder. "Grandma... stop sleeping. Please, wake up!" "It's Julian, Grandma! Wake up, please... look at me!" No raspy, loving voice answered me. Instead, Grandma's rigid body toppled forward, slipping off the edge of the mattress. She crashed onto the linoleum floor, frozen in the exact curled position she had died in. I threw myself out of the bed, ignoring the agony tearing through my muscles, and draped my body over her cold form. "Grandma!" My shattered wails echoed down the hospital corridor all night long. I didn't have the money for a proper funeral. I had to swallow my pride and borrow cash from estranged relatives just to buy a cheap urn. After her cremation, I used the remaining pocket change to buy a second urn—for myself. I didn't have any tears left. My eyes were completely dry. I checked the time on my cracked phone screen. Today was Mia and Scott's wedding. Good. Once I wrapped up this final piece of business, I could go join Grandma. She had looked after me my entire life. I couldn't let her wander the afterlife all alone. I put on that custom suit and the old watch from my duffle bag. With the last five dollars in my pocket, I went to a barbershop down the block to wash my messy hair. Neat, clean, and respectable, I made my way to the five-star hotel hosting the wedding. I didn't go in to toast them. I just stood in the shadowed corner of the grand ballroom, quietly watching the two of them standing under the blinding spotlights. Tears blurred my vision again. For a delusional second, Scott's face shifted into mine. I watched them for a long time. Then, I set down a plain bank envelope on the gift table. Inside was a debit card with thirty thousand dollars—my remaining savings, everything I had saved to leave behind for her. I turned around and walked to the riverbank we used to visit all the time. I lit a cigarette for the first time in years. Just then, my phone vibrated with a message from Mia: Julian, standing here today, I finally realized something. I don't love you anymore! I didn't even have the right to reply. When I hit send, a red exclamation mark appeared. She had blocked me. I wanted to leave a farewell message for my friends, but when I scrolled through my contacts, there was nobody left. Only Mia. And Grandma, my last anchor, had passed away yesterday. With shaking fingers, I opened Ins, standing at the edge of the pier, and hit record on a final voice note. "Today is Mia's wedding. I'm happy... but my heart aches so badly." "I'm happy she found someone to spend the rest of her life with. But I'm broken because that person isn't me." "The truth is, I never stopped loving her. I never despised her. I just got sick. A fatal, incurable sickness." My throat burned with raw pain. My forehead was boiling with fever, and sharp spasms racked my spine. "Mia and I broke up five years ago... After that, I thought our paths would never cross again. I never imagined I'd see her again five years later. Maybe heaven took pity on me, letting me see her happy with my own eyes before the end." "I'm sorry, Mia. I promised I would build you a home. I broke my promise. I failed you. I failed all the love you gave me." "I promised Grandma a good life, too. But she never got to enjoy a single peaceful day. She just... slipped away while sleeping beside my hospital bed." "This world is so strange. My studio stole my life's work. The moment they pushed me out, it had nothing to do with me anymore." My thoughts were a rambling mess. I didn't even know what I was saying. I just wanted to pour out every drop of poison bottled up in my chest. When I stopped talking, I realized what a miserable failure my life had been. "This world really is beautiful... but I don't think I'll come back in the next life." "I have to go take care of Grandma now." After hitting upload, I gently set my phone down on the wooden bench. I closed my eyes and stepped off the pier into the freezing, dark river below. What I didn't realize was that in my delirium, I had posted that audio file to the wrong account. I had uploaded it directly to the official developer account of Second Life, which was still logged in on my phone! The entire world heard my final words. Splash! A few moments after the dark water swallowed me, the phone on the bench began vibrating hysterically!