Scammed Hearts

04

Graham was always busy. Too busy to reply to my messages.

For the past year, while we were apart, I wrote him a letter every single day—small glimpses of my thoughts, my feelings, my life.

He never read a single one. Every time I handed them to him, he’d say, Next time, we’ll read them together.

Without realizing it, I had written 364 letters.

And now, he wanted to take them with him.

“Graham, don’t be ridiculous. Those are mine. They have nothing to do with you.”

His voice was calm, steady. “You wrote them to me. That makes them mine.”

A year of ignoring, and now—after our breakup—he suddenly cared?

I didn’t hesitate.

Right in front of him, I tore the letters apart, shredding them into pieces before letting them fall to the floor.

"Graham, we ended the moment you chose Silva."

No.

“The moment you chose to go to that hospital in LA.”

For two years, I chased after you.

For two years, I waited.

I was drained. Exhausted. I didn’t want to be stuck in a relationship with someone who felt more like a distant pen pal—someone who might reply if he had a spare moment.

I didn’t want to spend my days wondering about the women around you.

I didn’t want to randomly receive photos of you in someone else’s arms.

I couldn’t stay here anymore.

I turned away, leaving him standing there in my apartment, and locked myself in my bedroom.

Only when I curled up on my bed did I realize—I was crying.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t shed another tear for this man.

But once again, I had broken my own promise.

When I woke up, the night was still dark.

I checked my phone.

3 a.m.

I stepped out of my room, expecting to see the mess I had made.

But the living room was spotless.

Graham was gone.

His suitcase, which had been sitting by the door, was gone too.

This was it. This time, we were truly over.

I deleted his number. Every message. Every photo. Every trace of him from my phone.

The moment I hit “delete,” my phone rang.

A name I wasn’t expecting.

“Asher?”

His voice was quiet. “You’re still awake?”

“I just woke up. What’s up? Why are you calling this late?”

A pause. Then, with a hint of loneliness—

“I was feeling down. Thought I’d call you on a whim.”

I leaned against the couch. “What happened?”

“…Silva called me.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“She and Graham had a fight.”

So that’s why Graham had come to see me tonight?

I laughed—sharp and bitter.

“So what? You’re calling to accuse me? Afraid I interfered and made your true love fight with her true love?”

“No.”

Asher’s voice was quiet, tired.

“I’m just sick of being a bystander in their story.”

Then, after a moment—

“Rose, what do you think about dating me?”

I froze. “What?”

“Two broken people. A little emotional support. I’ll do everything right.”

It was reckless. Irrational.

A desperate attempt to sever ties with the past.

Asher wanted me to help him move on.

And I—

I needed someone to help me forget Graham.

Or at the very least, someone to sit with me and curse the world, our exes included.

Before I could think it through, I heard myself say it.

“Okay.”

05

So, just two weeks into dating Asher, we became like a real couple.

It happened so fast that people who didn’t know the full story assumed I was the one who had moved on too quickly.

The next day, Asher pulled up in front of my office in a deep blue Porsche Panamera, the flashy car drawing a crowd of curious coworkers.

“Rose, did your boyfriend get a new car?”

“Do doctors make this much? That thing’s got to be six figures...”

Then Asher stepped out of the car.

Silence.

He didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable, a relaxed smile playing on his lips. “I’m Rose’s boyfriend, Asher. I’m here to pick her up.”

Everyone knew my boyfriend was Graham. Since I hadn’t openly announced our breakup, Asher showing up like this was basically a public declaration of our new relationship.

My coworkers’ expressions shifted awkwardly. After some forced small talk, they quickly found excuses to scatter, leaving me alone with Asher.

If he noticed anything strange, he didn’t show it. Instead, he simply opened the car door for me. “After you.”

I eyed the car warily. “This… is yours?”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “It can be yours too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I shook my head with a sigh. “I’ve met plenty of rich kids who love playing games, but I never expected to meet one who’d willingly sign up to be a backup.”

For a second, Asher’s expression became truly indescribable.

“Rose!”

I was about to get in when someone suddenly called my name.

I turned around to see my best friend, Lula, running over.

“I forgot to give you this at work—homemade sushi.”

Then she glanced at Asher, wiggling her eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Lula had known about my breakup from the start—after all, she was the one who told me Graham had cheated. But I’d never mentioned Asher to her. Faced with my best friend’s curiosity, I felt oddly embarrassed and brushed off the question with a vague response.

On the way home, I noticed Asher’s mood seemed off.

“You didn’t want to introduce me to your best friend?”

“You actually care about that?” I popped a piece of sushi into my mouth. “It’s not like this is real.”

“…Not real?”

Asher suddenly hit the brakes and pulled over.

“I think you’ve misunderstood something.”

His tone was serious, his gaze unwavering.

“I didn’t start dating you as some temporary fix. I’m serious about you.”

“I know. I know.”

It was just two broken hearts keeping each other company, wasn’t it?

I changed the subject. “I’m starving. Feed me.”

That night, I woke up in excruciating pain.

It felt like a drill had been plunged into my stomach, twisting violently. Cold sweat soaked the sheets, and I barely had the strength to move.

With shaking fingers, I grabbed my phone and instinctively dialed a number.

“…Graham, it hurts…”

When I came to, I was in a hospital bed.

“You’re awake. Feeling any better?”

I turned my head sluggishly and saw Asher sitting beside me. My mind was still foggy.

“…Why are you here?”

I clearly remembered the last call I made—it had been to Graham.

“Acute gastroenteritis. You were brought to the hospital last night.” Asher reached out, brushing his hand over my forehead. “I got a call from the doctor and came right away.”

“…The doctor?”

I opened my mouth but didn’t ask any more questions.

Graham must’ve called an ambulance after receiving my call.

We were already broken up. The fact that he even dialed 911 for me was more than I could’ve asked for. What else was I expecting?

After hesitating for a while, I reached for my phone, wanting to send Graham a quick apology—after all, it was my fault for bothering him after we’d already gone our separate ways.

Before I could type anything, Asher gently pressed down on my hand.

“Don’t contact him anymore, okay?”

I looked up, startled.

Asher’s expression was soft, almost pleading.

“Rose, I said, I’m serious about you.”