The Golden Hour Of Revenge

I scrolled past a trending thread on my feed after clocking out.
The title asked: Should you pursue someone who is already in a relationship?
One comment, in particular, caught my eye. It read: Absolutely, you should.
Five years ago, I moved next door to a gorgeous, high-achieving guy. He had a girlfriend at the time.
"I became friends with both of them first. Then, I played the victim, fabricating a story that his girlfriend had hurt me, making sure I looked weak and vulnerable. That immediately created a rift between them."
"They started fighting often. During their worst argument, he came to me to vent, and I kissed him. He lost all control instantly."
"That same night, his ex-girlfriend was probably still crying over not getting into her dream college."
"Now, I see my choice was definitely the right one. Hes a partner at a listed company, and were getting married soon. If I hadn't been proactive back then, I wouldn't have this life now."
Then, the tone shifted into gleeful cruelty: "As for his ex? Shes a trainwreck. She didn't go to college. Shes probably going to rot in the gutter for the rest of her life."
A cold shock went through me, sharp and paralyzing. Because I realized, with sickening certainty, that I was the ex-girlfriend she was talking about.
1
My first instinct, upon reading that smug, detailed confession of relationship sabotage, was to close the tab. Id lived through that betrayal; why reopen the wound?
But my finger froze on the screen. The profile picture was the reason. It was a photo I knew intimately: the first picture of Sienna and Owen together, one I had taken myself on his birthday.
I stayed on the comment thread for what felt like an hour.
Most of the replies were tearing her apartcalling her a snake and a home-wrecker.
But a chilling minority supported her. They argued she simply made the best choice.
"This is how you level up. Snag a high-potential guy early and jump classes. Nothing wrong with wanting a better life."
"Even without this twist, they probably wouldn't have lasted. I don't think she did anything wrong."
Standing by the street curb, a sudden gust of wind caught me off-balance, and the cheap dinner I was holding slipped, rolling into a muddy puddle.
I bent down and fished the ruined sandwich out, dropping it into a trash can.
I was the ex-girlfriend in that comment.
Owen and I broke up. I missed out on college. Then, my mother, the person who loved me most, had a terrible accident.
There were times when I considered ending it all, a dark period I only started crawling out of in the last few years.
It was only then, tossing the wet wrapper, that I realized it had been five yearsfive years since Owen and I split, and three years since I had truly, completely let him go.
The old pain, the crushing humiliation, had faded, much like the scars on my wrist had healed, dissolving into the wind.
2
Back in my tiny apartment, I started tidying the mountain of chaotic sketches on my desk.
Sienna was right about one thing: I hadn't gone to college, and the opportunity to "jump classes," as she put it, seemed to have passed me by.
As I tucked the latest charcoal drawings back into the filing cabinet, my hand brushed against a thin, yellowed envelopea letter I hadnt touched in years.
The handwriting on the front was bold and decisive: "For Eliza Only."
In his note, Owen had once written that he would give me everything he had. Yet, in the end, I felt like I had lost everything because of him.
My mind was violently dragged back to the past.
Owen and I were childhood sweethearts, practically raised as siblings.
We lived in the same quiet neighborhood, back when his family was still whole. As his fathers business expanded, he spent less and less time at home. Owen constantly came to our house, saying our place felt like a home, while his felt like a mausoleum.
When he was six, his father had an affair. His mother smashed everything in the house overnightincluding her affection for Owen.
During the messy divorce, his parents treated him like a hot potato, neither one wanting him. His once-warm, three-person home was reduced to an empty shell.
My parents, seeing the lost, miserable boy, took him in, caring for him as if he were their own son.
From then on, Owen and I were inseparable.
He was the definition of exceptional: brilliant grades, movie-star good looks. I was just... average. Not beautiful, not a genius, my only notable talent being my knack for drawing.
But I never felt I didn't measure up to him.
He always said that my family gave him all the warmth he had, that we were his real home. He called me the single beam of light in his darkening world.
The incident happened during our freshman year of high school. We were walking home after late study hall, taking the usual shortcut through a dim alley.
We ran right into Owen's father.
He reeked of cheap liquor, his eyes darting wildly. He had lost his fortune, and the woman he cheated with had left him. Now, he was back for Owen.
Owen refused to go. His father lunged, trying to drag him away. I didn't hesitate; I threw myself in front of Owen and screamed at the man until he finally staggered off.
My legs were shaking so hard I could barely stand, but all I cared about was protecting Owen.
That night, he held me tighter than ever, whispering that he would only ever love me.
As high school progressed, Owen's excellence attracted a steady stream of girls. He was the undisputed top student. I, meanwhile, was just an art student with mediocre grades.
I started to worry that he would outgrow me. But Owen would just smile, pinching my nose. "Silly. How could I ever leave you? I owe you and your parents everything. I could never repay your kindness."
I genuinely believed we would be happy forever. Until Sienna arrived.
It was a scorching summer day. I was at Owens house, working on homework, when the doorbell rang.
Standing there was a girl with bright, sunny braids. She introduced herself as the new neighbor, her light, cheerful voice seeming to cut through the oppressive heat. An immediate sense of dread settled in my gut.
Perhaps it was because she was stunningly pretty. Or perhaps it was the way her eyes lingered on Owen, a faint, undeniable spark of interest in their depths.
I soon learned that my gut feeling wasn't a mistake. It was a premonition of the slow-motion disaster that would consume the rest of my high school life.
3
The very next day, I learned that Sienna hadn't just become Owen's new neighbor; she had transferred to our school.
We had just finished a round of exams, and the teacher was reviewing our scores. I, the average student, had somehow managed to get the highest grade in English. The moment the teacher opened her mouth to praise me, Sienna appeared at the classroom door.
The whole class erupted. No one cared about my grade anymore; all eyes were fixed on Sienna.
"Wow, we have a transfer student? Ive never seen a girl this beautiful on campus!"
I soon learned she would be joining our class.
What I didn't expect was her choosing me as her deskmate.
"Eliza, youre the only girl I know in this class. Youll have to help me out."
She beamed. "I know you and Owen are close. Can you bring me along when you guys hang out?"
Her smile was like the winter sunbright, warm, and impossible to refuse. A chill ran down my spine, but I couldn't find a reason to say no.
From that day on, a third person was wedged between Owen and me.
I never had many friends in class. But once Sienna arrived, the other students quickly decided that she and Owen were the obvious, destined matcheven if Owen was supposed to be dating me.
"The class queen and the quarterback. Why is Eliza always sticking herself in the middle?"
"Who knows? Some people just try to punch above their weight."
Back then, I genuinely considered Sienna a friend. I even asked her if the students were right, if I really didnt measure up to Owen.
Sienna just laughed sweetly. "Of course not, Eliza. I mean, youre not exactly pretty, but Owen doesnt care about superficial things like that."
"Oh, right! Owen wants to take you to the amusement park this weekend. He was too shy to ask you himself, so he made me pass on the message. Dont forget!"
Though Owen and I had an unspoken understanding, this was our first official date.
I left school early that Friday. Despite the torrential rain, I traveled to a distant mall to buy Owen a gift.
I picked out a silk tie. The saleswoman asked if it was for my boyfriend, and I shyly nodded.
The day of the date, I wore a light yellow sundress and let my ponytail down for the first time. Waiting outside the amusement park entrance, I kept wondering if I was overdressed.
I waited until nightfall, but Owen never showed. My texts went unanswered.
My excitement was replaced by dread. I started worrying that something terrible had happened to Owen.
It was pitch black outside. Rushing to his house, I tripped, falling hard into the dirt. My yellow dress was ruined, covered in mud, and the gift tie flew out of my hand.
I burst through his front door. My relief at seeing him alive vanished when I saw Sienna lying on Owens bed, looking fragile. Owen was standing next to her, preparing a mug of cold medicine.
"What are you doing here? Where have you been? I couldn't reach you all day."
His voice was angry, not relieved. "Dont you know Sienna got drenched yesterday? She fainted with a fever this morning. If she hadn't been my next-door neighbor, who knows how dangerous it would have been?"
He didnt apologize for standing me up; he just lashed out at me. In all the years we had known each other, he had never yelled at me like this.
Siennas eyes welled up with tears. "Eliza, I know you had an emergency yesterday, but why did you have to take my umbrella in such a downpour?"
"I didn't have any cold medicine at home, and my parents are out of town. I kept texting you, but you blocked me! Thankfully, I came over to Owens house just before I passed out. I don't know what I would have done otherwise."
She choked out a sob. "Eliza, I saw you as my best friend here. Why would you do that to me?"
Owen reached out and gently wiped her tears. He cut her off, his voice soft. "It's okay, Sienna. Thats enough."
I was frozen. In Siennas narrative, I was the villain.
Tears sprang to my own eyes. After a long moment, I finally spoke, reaching out with the ruined tie. "I didn't take your umbrella, I just"
But Owen didnt even look at me. He handed the glass of medicine to Sienna.
I felt like an invisible stranger. After a few minutes, I finally turned and walked out.
That night marked the beginning of our first cold war.
When school started, I quietly moved my seat, no longer sitting next to Sienna.
But the class's attitude toward me grew colder. Sienna had told everyone that I was targeting her because of Owen, successfully painting herself as the injured party.
Everywhere I went, the whispers followed.
"See? I told you she wasn't good enough for the class heartthrob. She just had to butt in."
"The class queen is so sweet; she still tried to be friends with her. Now she's being a snake. Who does she think she is?"
Suddenly, I was the pariah, a scorned girl, even though I had done nothing wrong.
Even Owen refused to meet my eyes.
A girl of seventeen can only endure so much humiliation. Finally, after late study hall one night, I found Owen.
He was sitting at his desk, patiently going over Sienna's corrected exam paper. He looked surprised to see me.
We walked home together. I poured out all my bottled-up anger and confusion, asking him why he was treating me this way.
But when I described how Sienna had deliberately misled me about the amusement park and then framed me for stealing her umbrella, Owen frowned.
He cut me off with an edge of impatience. "I dont understand why you always have such a massive chip on your shoulder about her. Shes not the manipulative person youre making her out to be. Shes not into petty drama."
"Since meeting Sienna, Ive realized how fiercely jealous you are, Eliza. Shes only ever been kind to you, yet you keep slandering her. Is it because shes prettier that you have to constantly drag her down?"
His voice dropped lower, his tone accusatory. "Do you have any idea how bad her fever was that day? She was still saying it must have been her fault for saying something too harsh to you."
I was stunned into silence. After all these years, Owen wouldn't grant me the most basic level of trust.
"Eliza," he said, and the words were sharp and clean, severing us. "After knowing you this long, I'm honestly disgusted. Are you so unremarkable that you can't bear to see anyone else shine?"

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