Social media can sneak into your life and become part of your relationships, whether you want it to or not. Most of the time, it feels harmless—just cute pictures and updates for friends and family. But sometimes, things can take an unexpected turn.
Mark and I had been together for almost a year. He was honestly the perfect boyfriend—sweet, caring, and always making me laugh, whether we were hiking or just lounging on the couch. I felt so lucky to have him, so I decided it was time to make things official on Facebook.
We were on a hiking trail one afternoon when we took a cute picture together, smiling with the sun shining behind us. “Just me and my favorite person on our latest adventure!” I captioned it, adding a couple of heart emojis. I felt excited to share a bit of our happiness with everyone.
Then, ten minutes later, I received a notification that made my stomach drop. It wasn’t a like or a comment. It was a message that read: “YOU MUST RUN FROM HIM. NOW.”
I stared at my phone, my heart racing. Who would send something like that? I clicked on the profile, hoping to find some clue, but there was nothing—no info, no pictures, just a blank page. The message itself was scary enough, but this? It felt like a ghost had sent it.
I glanced at Mark, who was busy tossing our backpacks into the car, completely unaware of the turmoil inside me. Should I tell him?
My mind raced, and before I could fully process it, another message popped up: “Don’t tell Mark anything. Listen carefully. Smile, don’t be aggressive with him. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You got it?”
I felt the blood drain from my face. What was going on? Who was sending these messages? And why were they so sure I was in danger? I couldn’t help but glance at Mark, who was still happily loading our things, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in my head.
I tried to brush it off, thinking maybe I was just overreacting. But the way he watched me sent chills down my spine. It felt like he was looking right through me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being judged or analyzed.
One evening, I decided to confront him. “Mark, is something bothering you? You’ve been acting a bit different lately.”
He looked surprised, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. Just deep in thought, I guess.”
I wanted to believe him, but the tension lingered. The messages still haunted me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was missing something important. I felt stuck between trusting Mark and the nagging fear from that mysterious message.
I felt a wave of panic wash over me. The idea of meeting a stranger, especially one who seemed to know things about Mark, made my stomach churn. But the promise of “evidence” was tempting. I had to find out more.
After a long debate in my head, I decided to go. I texted Mark, saying I had a last-minute meeting with a friend. He seemed a bit disappointed but accepted my excuse without questioning it further.
The next day, I arrived at Bayou Bakery, my heart racing. I scanned the room for anyone suspicious but only saw the usual patrons enjoying their coffee. Then, a figure in a hoodie caught my eye. They waved me over, and I hesitated before approaching.
“You’re here,” they said, their voice low. “I have something you need to see.”
“I’m meeting my mom for lunch tomorrow,” I said casually over breakfast, trying not to let my voice tremble.
Mark didn’t look up from his coffee right away. “Really? You didn’t mention it before.”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied quickly, my heart racing. “She called last night. Last minute thing.”
Mark finally met my eyes, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he said slowly.
I tried to focus on my coffee, but all I could feel was the weight of his gaze as if he was trying to see straight through me.
I felt a mix of relief and dread. “What do you mean, weird?”
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve been distant lately, and I could feel something was off. Then I saw the messages. I thought they were a prank or something, but now… I’m not so sure.”
My heart raced. “You saw the messages?”
He nodded again, looking worried. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but I noticed your phone lighting up at weird times. I read a couple of them, and they sounded serious. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I don’t know if I’m okay. Someone is telling me to run from you. They say there’s something I should be worried about.”
His expression shifted to one of concern. “What? Who is it?”
I glanced around the bakery, feeling the weight of the situation. “I don’t know. Just an anonymous account. They said to meet them here to see some evidence.”
He frowned, clearly conflicted. “We need to figure this out together. You shouldn’t be meeting anyone alone.”
I nodded, appreciating his concern, but uncertainty still hung in the air. “But what if it’s true? What if there’s something I don’t know about you?”
He reached out, taking my hand. “You need to trust me. Let’s find out what this is really about.”
Just then, I noticed the hooded figure watching us from across the room, their eyes fixed on us. My heart sank as I realized the situation was more complicated than I had ever imagined.
I blinked in surprise. “Andrew? What are you doing here?”
He chuckled, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. “Just thought I’d join you guys! I heard about the big mystery and wanted in on the action.”
Mark and I exchanged glances, both clearly unsettled. “What mystery?” Mark asked, his tone a mix of confusion and annoyance.
Andrew waved it off with a grin. “Oh, you know, the drama with the messages. Everyone’s talking about it. Figured I’d come see what the fuss was all about.”
I felt my stomach drop. “Everyone? What do you mean?”
He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “I mean, you two have been the topic of conversation. People are worried about you. They think something’s going on.”
Mark’s expression hardened. “And why are people talking about us? Who told you?”
Andrew shrugged, still smiling. “Just some friends. You know how it goes. Gossip spreads like wildfire.”
My mind raced. If Andrew knew, then so did others. What was happening? “Do you know who sent the messages?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
“No idea,” Andrew replied, still casual. “But I think it’s just some prank. People love stirring the pot.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a joke, Andrew. We’ve been getting messages that are seriously concerning.”
Suddenly, Andrew’s demeanor shifted. “Wait, you’re serious? You both got messages?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling frustrated. “And they’re not just funny texts. They’re telling us to run from each other!”
Andrew leaned in closer, his expression turning serious. “Okay, that’s not cool. We need to figure this out, then.”
I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. With Andrew now in the loop, I hoped we could get to the bottom of this madness together. But deep down, I still felt a chill creeping up my spine. Who was behind all of this, and what did they really want?
Andrew raised his hands, trying to calm us down. “Alright, maybe I pushed it a bit. But listen, Ellie and Mark, instead of talking to each other, you both went off following some anonymous messages. What does that say about your relationship?”
I looked at Mark, and he seemed just as angry as I was. But I could see something else in his eyes—a hint of uncomfortable truth. Andrew had a point, even if it stung to hear it.
We had let outside voices influence us instead of trusting each other. It felt like a crack was forming in our relationship, and I didn’t like it at all.
Mark finally spoke, his voice low. “He’s right. We should have talked first.”
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words. “I guess we let fear take over instead of communicating.”
Andrew watched us, his expression softening. “Look, I didn’t mean to make it worse. I just want you both to be happy. You care about each other, right?”
“Of course we do,” Mark said firmly, but I could see the doubt lingering in his eyes.
We all sat in silence for a moment, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. I realized we needed to focus on rebuilding trust. “How do we fix this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Andrew shrugged. “Start by being honest with each other. Don’t let other people or random messages dictate your feelings.”
Mark took a deep breath. “Yeah, we need to talk about everything, including these weird messages.”
I agreed, feeling a sense of determination. It was time to confront the truth together and stop letting outside forces interfere. We had to trust each other again, no matter how hard it might be.
When Mark and I left the bakery, we didn’t say much at first. The shock of everything that happened was still settling in, and I felt the weight of the situation.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Do you think Andrew is right?”
Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I hate to say it, but maybe. We didn’t talk to each other. We let those anonymous messages get to us.”
We both understood that trust is something we can’t take for granted. Even though Andrew’s prank was cruel, it taught us an important lesson. The only way to keep our relationship strong was to face our fears and doubts together.
I looked at Mark, feeling a mix of determination and relief. “We need to be open with each other from now on.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “No more letting outside messages influence us. We need to trust our instincts and each other.”
As we walked, I felt a sense of hope. We were ready to rebuild our connection and focus on what really mattered. Together, we could overcome anything.
Man Who Asked Me Out Didn’t Realize I Was the ‘Fat Girl’ He Bullied in High School – My Perfect Revenge
When Jen matches with her high school bully on a dating site, she relives the trauma of her childhood. But still, she goes on the date—as a way of getting revenge for how she was treated. The date ends up being a bust, and Jen doesn’t get what she intended, so she plans a second meeting…
I sat at the bar, pretending to be absorbed in my phone as the door swung open and my date walked in. After meeting on a dating app, Justin and I had decided that it was finally time to meet.
Except that Justin and I had met before—just that he didn’t remember it.
A person using her phone | Source: Unsplash
As he walked in, the familiar jolt of recognition shot through me, but on his face, there was only the casual scan of a man on the lookout for someone who could have been anyone but the girl he once tormented. As he approached, his smile was confident, practiced.
I steeled myself, reminding my racing heart of its role tonight—a new woman, who just wanted revenge.
A smiling man | Source: Unsplash
“Hey, Jen,” he said, sliding into the seat beside me, unaware of the storm he was walking into. “I hope I’m not too late?”
“Not at all,” I replied, my voice steady and sweet. “I was just enjoying the vibe here. This place has changed since the last time I was around.”
People sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels
When we had matched on the app, I was convinced that Justin wouldn’t be able to recognize me. Since high school, I had drastically changed—everything from my hair, my weight, and my sense of style.
I was a new person.
“Yeah, it’s got a good crowd tonight,” Justin nodded, waving over a bartender. “Can I get you a drink now?”
People sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels
I watched him closely—he had barely changed since the last time I saw him. It had been our high school graduation, followed by a party in an open field. Justin had barely glanced at me. He didn’t register that I was someone who had been attracted to him.
Then, not now.
A group of graduates | Source: Pexels
When we matched, I wasn’t interested in Justin—but after I spoke to my sister, we both thought that messing with Justin would be healing in some way.
“Sure, a gin and tonic, thank you,” I said, watching his face for any sign of recognition. There was none. It was clear as he saw me—I was just another date. Just another woman that he had picked up.
A cocktail with strawberries | Source: Pexels
As he chatted about his job and recent travels, I nodded along, my mind racing ahead to the plan unfolding around us. The bar was filling up quickly.
Justin continued to speak, and I began to space out—remembering moments from high school.
Students hanging out together | Source: Pexels
Like the one time when the dull echo of my footsteps in the empty high school corridor seemed louder than usual, reverberating off the lockers with a metallic chill.
I clutched my books tightly to my chest, my eyes downcast, trying to make myself invisible. The memory of Justin’s harsh laughter from earlier that day still stung, a cruel reminder of my daily ordeal.
A close-up of lockers | Source: Pexels
As I turned the corner, I could hear the muffled sounds of other students, their voices light and carefree. I approached the bathroom, a temporary refuge where I could gather myself away from prying eyes and sharp tongues.
I could never eat in the cafeteria. They would all look at me and laugh.
Meals on trays | Source: Unsplash
I remember pushing the bathroom door open, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner mixed with a hint of floral air freshener greeted me. I checked the stalls quickly—empty—and allowed myself a moment to lean against the cool tile wall, exhaling slowly.
The tears came then, quietly at first, then with a shuddering force I couldn’t contain. It wasn’t just the words that Justin had hurled at me—it was the relentless, grinding down of my spirit, day after day.
A bathroom stall | Source: Unsplash
Bringing me back to the present, Justin asked if I wanted to leave the bar after our drink and get something to eat at the many food stalls outside. Younger me would never, but I was different now.
As he asked for the bill, Justin began to hound the waitress.
A couple drinking at the bar | Source: Pexels
“I need you to hurry up,” he told her. “We’ve got places to be and you’re just taking up my time. Could you do your job any slower?”
She blinked back tears and went to get the bill.
“My ex-girlfriend was just like that,” he said, turning to me. “Her eyes would well up whenever I said anything.”
A smiling waitress | Source: Unsplash
The evening ended with me leaving Justin outside the bar, claiming that I had a headache and needed to sleep it off.
I was disappointed that I didn’t get my revenge.
At home, I sat with my laptop in bed and decided to take another shot at having my revenge against Justin. I logged onto Facebook and created an event—adding everyone who had gone to high school with us.
A person using their laptop in bed | Source: Pexels
I planned the reunion, making the bar that I had just left the location for our meeting. When the event was created, many of my ex-classmates indicated that they would be there—there were many shares and by the next morning, the number of people attending had grown.
A laptop opened to Facebook | Source: Pexels
On the day of the reunion, I spent a while getting dressed. This was a big moment. This was for everyone to see that I was the best version of myself—and that I was confident in my own skin.
At the bar, I went straight to the bartender and made sure that the bill would be sent to Justin at the end of the evening, giving his name and number.
A woman doing her make up | Source: Pexels
After a while, Justin came up to me with a big grin on his face.
“You seem different, have we met before?” he asked, slurping his drink.
He didn’t even have the decency to remember me from drinks the previous week.
The irony of his words almost made me laugh, but I kept my composure.
A person holding a glass | Source: Pexels
“I get that a lot,” I deflected. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”
Justin laughed, shrugging as he turned to signal the bartender for another round.
“But you do know me,” I said. “You really haven’t changed, have you, Justin?”
“What do you mean?”
A couple talking | Source: Pexels
“Just that you’ve always had this way of making people feel less,” I pressed on, my resolve hardening with each word. “Like how you talk to the waitress, or how you joked about your ex the other night.”
Justin’s face hardened when he realized who I was—but still, I was merely the girl from the dating app, not the one who had been bullied by him before.
A person holding her phone | Source: Pexels
“What? Oh! Jen!” he said, his face contorting.
“Do you remember Jennifer from high school?” I asked loudly, hoping that people would be listening. “The girl that you tormented. The girl that you made sure knew how different she was from everyone else. That she didn’t fit your cruel standards.”
His face went pale, his eyes widening as realization dawned, connecting the past with the present.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
“I’m that Jennifer,” I said. “And tonight, I wanted you to see exactly who I have become, despite your best efforts to break me down.”
Justin stood up, his mouth opening and closing, searching for something to say but finding nothing. Around us, the expressions from our classmates ranged from shock to support, their eyes fixed on us.
A surprised woman | Source: Unsplash
“I hope one day you’ll understand the weight of your words, how deeply they can cut,” I said.
Turning on my heel, I left him standing there stupidly, the bill for the drinks being the least of his worries.
Finally, I had done it.
A person holding a receipt | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
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