It started like a storm that no one saw coming.One second, the city was normal—bright screens, people scrolling, gossiping over coffee. The next, her name was everywhere.
Trending.Disgraced.Exposed.
Every blog, every gossip account, every hungry digital vulture was feeding on her story—the queen of perfection, torn apart by her own hypocrisy. Screenshots, messages, recordings—everything I'd sent through that anonymous email. It spread faster than a lie ever could, because this time, it wasn't a lie.
By afternoon, her world was on fire.
Her friends—those picture-perfect girls she used to laugh with—blocked her, deleted photos, unfollowed. Her workplace issued a bland statement about "internal review." Her family stopped picking up her calls.
And her boyfriend—the great Arjun—disappeared like smoke.
Funny thing? I didn't even have to add fuel. I just stood back and watched it burn.
When I came home that night, she was sitting on the floor. The lights were off. Her phone lay shattered beside her. She didn't even look up when I entered.
I just stood there, in the doorway, pretending I didn't know. Pretending I hadn't built the fire myself.
"Rough day?" I asked, my voice calm, casual.
No answer.
She looked… smaller. Like all that pride, all that glitter she used to wear had peeled off, leaving only this fragile, hollow shell. Her mascara was smeared, her eyes red, her breath uneven.
"They're saying such horrible things," she whispered finally. "You've seen it, right? It's everywhere."
I nodded. "Yeah. Internet's brutal."
Her lips trembled. "They don't know the truth."
I almost laughed. But something inside me stopped it halfway. "Maybe they do," I said instead, shrugging. "Maybe they just don't care anymore."
She stared at me then, like she was searching for something—sympathy, maybe? A trace of the man she once controlled.
But he was gone.
Later that night, she locked herself in the bathroom for hours. I heard the water running, the soft sound of crying through the door. The mirror in the hallway caught my reflection as I passed by. For a second, I didn't recognize the man in it. His eyes were too calm. Too cold.
That's when it hit me—this was what power felt like.Not joy. Not pride.Just silence.
I went back to my desk, opened my laptop, and watched as her story climbed the feed again. Thousands of people tearing her apart, turning her life into content. The same audience she used to perform for—now devouring her.
It should've felt satisfying.It didn't.
All I could think was: I made this happen.
By the next morning, she hadn't left the bedroom. I made coffee, checked my messages, and went about my routine like nothing had changed. The whole world had turned on her, and I was still pretending I was an outsider, an innocent bystander.
Every "ding" from my phone was another update, another fall. Someone found old pictures, someone twisted new rumors, someone laughed.
And through it all, one thought kept echoing in my head:I didn't destroy her. I just showed them who she really was.
But the more I repeated that, the less I believed it.
Because somewhere between revenge and justice, I had lost track of where one ended and the other began.
That evening, she finally came out. Her eyes were dead. No tears left. No fight.
"I can't go outside," she said quietly. "Everyone's looking at me like I'm dirt. Even my parents—" she stopped, voice cracking. "They told me not to come home."
I just nodded. I didn't offer comfort. I didn't reach out.
But inside, something heavy twisted. Guilt, maybe. Or the ghost of love. I couldn't tell anymore.
"You'll get through it," I said finally. "Time fixes everything."
She looked at me, confused, like she wanted to believe that. But she didn't.And honestly, neither did I.
When she went to sleep, I stepped out onto the balcony. The city lights looked almost beautiful, distant and cruel. People moving, living, laughing—while one woman's life fell apart behind a closed door.
I thought I'd feel triumphant watching her crumble. But all I felt was… empty.
Maybe that's the real punishment.Not for her—for me.
Because once you destroy the monster, you realize it used to have your face too.