By my sophomore year, I had gone through quite a transformation. My previously sun-kissed skin had returned to a porcelain tone, and I began wearing Victorian-style dresses while trying out new hairstyles. The boys who once teased and mocked me now turned red whenever they saw me. On the first day of the new school year, Amias watched me for a long time, seemingly at a loss for words. After I confessed my feelings to him once more, Amias finally agreed to be my boyfriend.

That night, back in my dormitory, I was too excited to sleep. My roommates shared in my happiness, not just because I was in love, but because I had finally found my confidence. "Malani, remember that you're amazing, and you deserve to be loved by anyone," they said with genuine warmth. In that moment, I felt like the happiest person alive. My academics were going well, my roommates were supportive, and I had made numerous friends. Best of all, my long-time crush, Amias, was now my boyfriend.

Later in the evening, I called my grandmother, Emiliana. When she asked if I was seeing anyone, I found myself smiling and blushing, "Yes, I am. I'll bring him home during the summer break so you can meet him."

Amias had bought a house near the university. Ever since we started dating, he often invited me over to keep him company. Each day, after classes finished, I'd go to his place to cook, do his laundry, and clean up. He even expected me to wash both his cars, leaving me exhausted and sore every time.

One evening, after dinner, a heavy rainstorm hit. I didn't have an umbrella and thought staying over for the night would be sensible. Amias's house was spacious, with three bedrooms and two living areas, so staying in the guest room seemed reasonable. However, Amias had other ideas. He looked at me and said softly, “Malani, you're not thinking of sneaking into my bed tonight, are you? A girl should have some self-respect.”

That night, I weathered the storm to return to campus and ended up with a high fever the next day. After that, I never brought up staying over again. Looking back now, maybe Amias had his own way of making a point. What kind of girlfriend lets herself be treated this way?

I was nothing more than an unpaid help. Housekeepers at least receive a salary and have their own space. I didn’t even get that. I was simply providing free labor, giving of myself without any expectation.

I removed the photo hanging in the living room. Carefully, I tore my part and set it aside, while I shredded Amias’s and flushed it down the toilet. It was ironic, really, considering I was the one who insisted on putting the photo up in the first place. But every time Amias's friends came over, I had to take it down and hide it like a dirty secret, as if I were invisible, unseen and hidden from the light.

With a pair of scissors in hand, I cut the cords of the air conditioner, the TV, and the internet. Then, I went to the kitchen and grabbed the hot sauce, pouring it liberally into the cabinets. Spoiled milk and fruit from the fridge found their way under the couch. In Amias’s wardrobe, I found his underwear and cut small holes in each pair. I scrubbed his toothbrush in the toilet and put it back neatly.

I paused for a moment, then went downstairs to buy a strong, clear adhesive. Humming a tune, I gleefully spread it all over Amias’s bed. By the time the place was transformed into something utterly unrecognizable, an hour had passed. I nodded in satisfaction.

Before leaving, I pocketed all the keys to Amias’s cars. Just as I stepped out of the apartment complex, Amias called. His voice carried a hint of irritation, “Where have you gone? Everyone's waiting for you, you know?”

The anger in my chest had simmered somewhat, leaving me in the mood for a bit of teasing. “Take a guess. Maybe I’m at your place?”

Amias paused, his tone turning chilly. “Malani, that’s not funny.”

I remained silent, and Amias seemed to sense something was off, leading him to an unprecedented moment of concession, “Still upset about Lana? I told you, it was just a dare.”

Lana, his childhood friend. He called her Jojo with such easy familiarity, unlike how he always addressed me by my full name.

“No, it’s fine. If you love these games so much, then keep playing.”

Lana had lost a game and was dared to sit on someone's lap. She looked shyly at Amias, who understood immediately and pulled her into his arms. Everyone laughed, except for me; my expression darkened. I had left the room to settle the bill, preparing an excuse to leave.

But at the door, I overheard Amias casually calling me the “nanny.” He demanded I carry myself with dignity, yet mocked me in front of his friends, letting them make sleazy jokes and suggestive comments. I may not have dated before, but I knew this wasn’t love. I couldn’t believe he’d treat his childhood friend this way.