THE BREAKUP: a short story
THE BREAKUP: a short story

THE BREAKUP: a short story


The room is chilly. Silent. A vibrating phone is palpably audible.

Cold fills the atmosphere. Like every bit of warmth has been sucked out of it. There is scarce redolence of bygone happiness.

A girl and a boy sit silently at a table.

BOY: Must we break up? Why not just take a break? We can resume our relationship when you’re ready.

The girl shakes her head slowly. 

GIRL: No, it’s got to be a clean break. This whole episode helped me realized that my entire life, I’ve only known you. I’ve only kissed you, dated you, loved you, and slept with you. I’ve never had another. And then you took my loyalty and broke it into a million pieces. No more. It’s time to expand my horizons. 

The betrayal is raw on her voice. It takes a lot to rein the pain in.

BOY: Please don’t do this. I didn’t want to cheat on you. But I can’t look like a wimp in front of the other boys. I had no choice!

You always have a choice. You don’t just fall into a vagina. But the girl doesn’t mention this.

The girl looks at the boy. Yikes, he’s fucking ugly. How has she never realised this? His cheeks are puffy and round like bee sting swells. Tiny, beady eyes protrude from his skull like a snake’s. When she squints, she sees him for what he really is: a cunning two-headed snake. 

BOY: I had no choice. I considered not cheating on you, I really did. But I had to put my personal feelings aside. I had to do what’s best for my image to the boys.

The girl accidentally snorts.

BOY: I lost sleep over this. 

He blinks. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Freud said betrayal oozes out of the liar at every pore. The boy is oozing like diarrhea from an asshole.

BOY: It broke my heart.

The girl clenches her fist. The alternative is to roll her eyes. 

BOY: I don’t have to see you, to persuade you to stay. But yet I’m here.

A fake smile plasters his fugly face. The air turns rancid with his fake earnestness. 

The girl is about to retch. She swallows. Maybe she should’ve sprayed puke all over the boy instead.

He never thought she’d leave. He assumed he’d always have her under his thumb, licking his balls, placidly accepting his abuse. I’m the best she can do, he’ll tell his friend, spilling cockiness all over the carpet.

He was wrong.

Later, the spiteful boy spreads a rumour. She cheated on him, he says. She’s a bitch, he punctuates.

When the girl finds out, she just sighs with disappointment. She’s not surprised. Integrity has never been his strong suit.

And now he’s playing into the stereotype of a jilted lover.

The girl thinks, when is he ever going to realise that there’s only one real bitch in town?

Only one.

Her name is KARMA.

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