The sea crashed against the rocky coastline below, its stormy waves echoing the chaos in my heart. The briny scent of seaweed and salt filled my nostrils, a far cry from the carefully selected fragrances that usually surrounded me. The weathered wood of the deck was rough beneath my bare feet, its texture a stark reminder of how far I was from my usual polished world.
The wind whipped across the deck, tousling my hair wildly. Normally, I would have rushed inside, salvaged my hair for a perfect windswept look–but those had to be carefully planned.
But today…
Today none of that mattered–not the perfect shots, not the careful plans.
I hadn’t even swiped one coat of mascara on, and my hair was a tangled mess after days without washing.
Today, I was a shell of my former self. My normally dewy skin looked dull, and dark circles rimmed my eyes.
I wiped at a tear as it slid down my cheek, my hands wrapping around the mug in search of comfort. The warmth of the tea did little to soothe my frayed nerves, as though even it had lost its power over me.
Instead, my lips tugged into a deep frown.
My phone chimed, and I instinctively grabbed it, toggling it on to check my messages. They’d poured in after I’d made my announcement that I would be taking some time off from my social media posting. I’d kept it short and sweet, but as an influencer, my private life was public.
Everyone knew why I’d gone into hiding. I’d promised to post here and there during my “break,” but the truth was, I couldn’t even think of looking at my account.
Most of the comments on my goodbye post were kind, but there were a few zingers.
I licked my lips as I saw only those. Little Miss Perfect wasn’t so perfect.
With a flick of my thumb, I scrolled past it to another. Oops, someone can’t handle the fact that her fake boyfriend was…*gasp* fake.
I swallowed hard, slamming my phone face down on the weathered table as a few more tears escaped.
Everything I had built, everything I had worked for had evaporated in a flash. My perfect image, carefully curated, cultivated, and filtered had gone straight up in smoke when the racy photographs of my boyfriend with another woman hit the social media circuit.
I chewed my lower lip as I recalled that morning. I had woken up after the news had broken. With my sleep mask–paid for by a sponsor who’d been thrilled to be featured on my feed–still strapped to my head, I’d stared in horror at the thousands of messages flooding my account.
The pictures had been removed from the original location, but they’d already been screenshotted, reposted, shared, and everything else that could happen to things posted on the internet.
My carefully built relationship had been outed as a complete sham. And the worst part? I’d never seen it coming.
