Jayden had been planning this moment for days.
He printed out a custom hoodie with her name stitched across the sleeve. Spent four hours writing a handwritten letter—front and back—talking about how her smile healed his anxiety, how her favorite perfume was now his favorite scent, and how he could still taste the cherry lip balm she wore during their first kiss.
Which—by the way—was technically on the cheek.
He ordered a teddy bear the size of a medium child and paid extra to have it wear a fake engagement ring on its paw. Not even from a store.
From Etsy.
Jayden stood by the vending machines outside the cafeteria, a smile that barely held together. He'd brought her favorite drink—iced peach tea, no sugar, just how she liked it. His hands were clammy and full. Heart racing like he was about to confess for the first time. He was holding the bear, the drink, the letter, and a Spotify playlist titled "For Her Soul" open on his phone like a mobile mixtape shrine.
He walked inside the cafeteria and...
And she—
She walked up with a face like she smelled something dead.
"Jayden." Her voice carried like an air raid siren. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Even the lunch ladies stared from inside.
He smiled. "Hey babe—got you the tea you like. I, um... also made you something." He offered her the hoodie, the letter, the bear. A full buffet of cringe.
She didn't take any of it. Because instead of a kiss or a thank you, he got a look. That kind of look. The "why are you even breathing near me" look.
"Jayden..." Her voice was loud. Too loud. Loud enough for the table of juniors behind them to pause mid-laugh.
"We need to talk."
People always say that before a murder.
He nodded, voice caught somewhere between his stomach and his soul.
"I don't think this is working." She didn't even lower her voice. "You're just... too much. Too clingy. Too broke. Too average."
A group of freshmen literally gasped. One kid whispered "bro got cooked."
He blinked. "What? What do you mean? I love you and you love me..."
"Jayden. Stop. Just stop."
He froze. Rose bouquet trembling.
"Before you say anything romantic or post another TikTok about our 'love story,' I'm ending this. Right now."
Phones were definitely recording now.
"I can't keep pretending this is working," she said, louder now. "I only said yes to you because I felt bad. You wrote me an essay about how my laugh saved your past depression and made you forget your sad past. I thought it was sweet. At first. But now?"
She stepped aside.
"I can't breathe without seeing your name pop up. You DM my cat's account. You sent me UberEats after one argument. Jayden, you printed my baby photos and taped them to your locker."
He whispered, "They were cute..."
"You made an anime edit of us and tagged me on Facebook."
Someone in the crowd screamed. A real scream. Like they were physically in pain from the secondhand cringe.
"I mean, it's embarrassing, Jayden. You still wear cartoon socks. You call me 'babe' in public. And let's be real—what girl wants to date the guy who got benched from P.E. dodgeball?"
Laughter exploded like firecrackers behind him. Someone was already recording. The red dot blinked like a death signal.
She shrugged, still on display. "I'm going to prom with Tyler. He has a car. And muscles. And he doesn't text me 37 times in a row when I don't reply for five minutes."
His mouth opened. Nothing came out. His soul wanted to scream. His pride wanted to vanish. His heart? It just wanted to understand.
"But... I thought you said—"
"I said a lot of things, Jayden. You believed them. That's on you."
Jayden stood there for a full minute. People whispered. Laughed. One guy said, "Damn, I felt that in my GPA." Another offered him a handshake like he just survived a war.
But all Jayden could hear was her last sentence echoing in his skull.
"You believed them. That's on you."
Instead, she pulled out her phone and tapped her story. "Just so you don't get it twisted, I'm breaking up with you right now. Publicly. So everyone knows I'm not dating the dude who wrote me a 2-page poem comparing me to anime goddesses."
Laughter. Immediate. Unfiltered.
Jayden blinked. "Wait… you saw that? I—I just wanted to show you how much I—"
"Jayden. You text me 'goodnight princess' every night. You made a TikTok of our date but edited out the part where I looked bored. You told my mom I was 'your future.' I. Was. Embarrassed."
His hands shook. The teddy bear slipped and hit the pavement with a dull thud. Like a ring rolled off into a puddle like fate itself gave up on him.
"I wore the hoodie..." he whispered.
"Jayden, you wore the hoodie to my aunt's funeral."
Another gasp from the crowd. A few people winced.
"I'm going out with Tyler now. He lifts. You cry during slow songs."
Jayden didn't even reply. Couldn't. His mouth moved but his heart had gone full blue screen.
She walked off like she was stepping off a stage, high-fived her friend, and updated her status to "single & healed" boots clicking like victory drums across the pavement. She tossed the peach tea in the trash without even opening it.
Behind him, someone whispered,
"Bro gave her a bear and got bear-ly acknowledged."
Jayden stared at the tea. She didn't even take the fucking tea.
He stood there, arms slack, shoulders caving in under the weight of everything he'd been carrying—his hope, his effort, the bear, the damn roses. The crowd behind him faded into noise, a messy blur of whispers, muffled laughter, and phone cameras catching every second of his collapse. But the real damage wasn't the public humiliation.
That was nothing.
Not compared to this.
What hurt more—what ripped through him—was the betrayal. Not just of this moment, but of everything that led up to it. The months he'd spent listening to her talk about trust, about how no one ever treated her like he did. The nights they stayed on call till 2AM, telling each other secrets that felt too heavy to carry alone. The way she once looked at him like he meant something.
And now she stood there, eyes hollow, voice loud and cold, making him out to be a fool for ever believing her.
She wasn't even embarrassed.
She'd kissed Tyler this morning. Jayden had seen it happen just past the locker hallway, before second period. She hadn't even tried to hide it. She kissed him the exact same way she should've kissed Jayden who she only gave a peck. Same little smirk after. Same playful tug on the sleeve. And still—still—Jayden convinced himself it was a mistake.
A moment. Something she'd explain, apologize for, maybe even cry about.
So he planned this. He made today mean something. He thought if he showed her how much he still cared, reminded her of what they had, she'd snap out of it. She'd realize Tyler was a mistake. He could forgive her for that. He would. Because she was worth forgiving.
Or at least, that's what he told himself.
But instead, she broke him in front of everyone. Called him clingy, average, pathetic. Threw away the very memories she'd once asked him to treasure. And then blamed him for trusting her. Blamed him for holding on to the promises she made.
"You believed them. That's on you," she said.
And that was it.
That was the moment. Not the rejection, not the laughter, not the phones or the bear or the pitying glances from passing students—but that sentence. That dismissal. As if his love had been a glitch. As if he had imagined it all.
Jayden didn't cry. He didn't run. He just stood there, something in his chest folding inward and breaking off, one piece at a time. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… quietly. Like a part of him knew it had died.
And no one else noticed.