Chapter 23: Mathilda's Revenge
Mathilda sat on her sofa, arms crossed, staring at her phone with a sharp edge in her eyes. The picture of Linda with the man she had once liked—the same man who had now begun to show cracks in his relationship—glared at her from the screen. Linda looked happy in the photo, smiling at him, her hand brushing against his. And yet, Mathilda's stomach twisted with a mixture of jealousy and anger.
She had thought Linda would be cautious, that she would struggle with moving in so fast. She had expected some heartbreak to follow, but seeing Linda's supposed happiness made her feel a bubbling resentment rise inside her. She clenched her fists. She deserves to feel the pain I felt. She deserves to know how cruel love can be.
For weeks, Mathilda had kept her distance, nursing her anger quietly, watching from afar. But now, as she saw Linda falter, as she knew cracks had begun to form in Linda's relationship, a small, vicious pleasure ignited in her.
Mathilda leaned back, smirking to herself. She imagined the subtle ways she could remind Linda that life wasn't fair. She didn't need to do anything dramatic—just being herself, being visible, and letting her own success and confidence shine would be enough.
She started by sending a few vague messages to mutual acquaintances, hinting that Linda's relationship wasn't as perfect as it seemed. "I hear some things aren't going well," she texted to one friend. Nothing direct, nothing aggressive, just enough to plant doubt.
She watched for reactions, enjoying the little ripple it created. Every time someone mentioned something about Linda's relationship faltering, Mathilda smiled. Yes, let her feel the uncertainty. Let her realize that life can turn on a dime.
The deeper she thought about it, the more she realized how much she had wanted this moment. Months ago, she had been furious when Linda had taken the man from her. She had argued, shouted, and even gone to court, but nothing had stopped Linda from moving in with him.
Now, Mathilda felt a satisfaction she hadn't expected. The cracks in Linda's relationship were like revenge served in small, bitter doses. She didn't need to act directly—she just needed to wait and watch as Linda faced the consequences of her own choices.
She remembered all the late-night talks, the plotting over who would find love first, the secret giggles when browsing Daady.net together. All of it felt like it had been turned on its head. Mathilda had wanted to win before Valentine's, to feel desired, to feel in control. And now, even though she wasn't with the man, she felt she had won in a different way—through Linda's suffering.
Mathilda's thoughts drifted to the past, to the court case where she had thrown Linda out. That had been satisfying in a way, but now it was different. Now, Linda's emotional vulnerability was unfolding naturally, without Mathilda needing to push her. She didn't have to act; the situation was unraveling on its own.
Every time Mathilda thought about Linda crying in her apartment, feeling abandoned and betrayed, a smile flickered on her face. She imagined the loneliness, the uncertainty, and the heartbreak Linda would feel as she navigated the crumbling relationship with the man.
Yes, Mathilda thought. Let her feel it. Let her understand what it's like to have trust broken, to be vulnerable, to be hurt. She's going to learn the hard way.
Mathilda's mind also wandered to the moments of anger she still carried. She remembered how she had argued with Linda over the man, how her own jealousy had boiled over, and how she had fought for what she thought she deserved.
Now, seeing Linda falter brought all of those emotions back—jealousy, rage, and a sense of vindication. Every text Linda sent that seemed short, distracted, or worried, every story from mutual friends about her heartache, made Mathilda's anger flare and then settle into a smug satisfaction.
She started planning small ways to remind Linda that she wasn't untouchable, that life could be cruel. Nothing overt, just little nudges—checking in on mutual friends, sharing subtle stories, being visibly confident and successful, letting the world see that she was thriving while Linda struggled.
Mathilda leaned back in her chair, a sense of anticipation building inside her. The slow unraveling of Linda's life—her heartbreak, her doubts, her fear of betrayal—was satisfying in a way she hadn't expected.
She thought about how Linda had once been the confident, radiant friend, the one everyone admired, the one who seemed to have it all. But now, cracks were forming, and Mathilda wanted to be there to watch the consequences. Not out of pity, but out of a need for justice, a need for balance.
In her mind, she justified it as natural. Linda took what I wanted once. Now it's time she experiences what it feels like to be vulnerable, to be hurt, to be shaken. It's only fair.
The next day, Mathilda went about her usual routine, but her mind kept returning to Linda. She checked social media, her phone, and even mutual friends, looking for signs that Linda's world was cracking. Each small piece of evidence—an upset status, a missed call, a distracted response—felt like confirmation that her revenge, though passive, was working.
She wasn't cruel out of malice, at least not completely. Part of her felt a twisted sense of justice, as if the universe was giving her the satisfaction she had been denied before. But another part was undeniably selfish—enjoying the suffering, relishing the imbalance, and feeling her own anger subside just a little as she watched Linda struggle.
Over the next few weeks, Mathilda's satisfaction grew. She noticed how Linda's once-bright energy was dimming. She heard about tense conversations, about confusion and suspicion, about tears shed quietly in the apartment she now shared with the man.
Mathilda allowed herself to smile privately at the thought. She hadn't done anything directly, hadn't interfered, but just by existing, by thriving, by staying confident, she was indirectly asserting her presence, reminding Linda that she wasn't invincible.
Let her feel it, she thought. Let her taste the bitterness of betrayal, let her see that the world doesn't always bend to her wishes, and let her understand that sometimes, life comes back around.
Late one night, Mathilda sat by her window, looking out at the city. She thought about Linda crying, about the uncertainty and the emotional fallout she was enduring. She thought about herself—her anger, her jealousy, her desire for justice.
And then she thought about the future. Mathilda wasn't done. This was only the beginning. She didn't need to act aggressively. She didn't need to create chaos. The chaos was already happening. Linda's heartbreak, fueled by the man's distance and secrecy, was unfolding naturally.
Mathilda smiled, a mix of triumph and malice curling in her chest. She felt powerful, satisfied, and ready to watch as Linda navigated the storm.
Revenge doesn't always require effort, she thought. Sometimes, you just let the universe do its work—and watch as it unfolds.
Days passed, and Mathilda continued her quiet observation. She noted every sign of struggle, every missed smile, every tear. The satisfaction she felt wasn't fleeting—it was deeply rooted in months of anger, resentment, and jealousy.
She thought back to the times they had shared, to the bond that had once existed, to the laughter and the secrets. And though part of her remembered those moments fondly, another part—stronger, darker—thrived on Linda's suffering.
Mathilda knew she wouldn't openly celebrate this. She would keep her composure, keep her life in order, and let the slow unraveling of Linda's world be her quiet revenge. She didn't need to speak, she didn't need to act overtly—the subtlety made it sweeter.
And so, Mathilda sat back, watching and waiting. Every message, every small sign of distress, every flicker of heartbreak brought her a quiet, wicked satisfaction. Her anger, her jealousy, and her desire for revenge had found their mark—not through confrontation, but through patience, observation, and the slow, inevitable emotional fallout Linda was experiencing.
This is only the beginning, Mathilda whispered to herself. Let her feel every moment of this, and let her understand that life isn't always fair.
The city outside glittered innocently, unaware of the quiet revenge unfolding in the shadows. Inside, Mathilda felt a sense of control she hadn't felt in months, a feeling of power, satisfaction, and anticipation for what was still to come.
And somewhere, Linda was hurting, unaware that her friend's silent wrath was sharpening, ready to strike again if the opportunity arose.
Mathilda leaned back in her chair, a smug smile curling her lips. The emotional fallout was happening, and she was enjoying every second.