"Rebound?" I said calmly. "You asked me to move out to reflect. Sounds like you reflected right into someone else's bed."
She backpedaled fast. "It wasn't like that! I was confused. You're always so understanding. Forgive me. I love you."
Hypocrisy dripped from every word. The girl who'd called me trapped now begged.
"No, Sarah. We're done."
She hung up, but the desperation ramped.
Next, her friends got involved: toxic enablers who'd cheered her "self-discovery." One messaged: "Dude, give her a chance. She's sorry. Don't be petty."
Then family. Her mom called—a woman who'd always favored Sarah's whims. "Alex, this is ridiculous. Sarah's hurting. Be the bigger person and come back. Family sticks together."
Unpleasant didn't cover it: guilt-tripping, implying I owed them.
I shut it down. "Respectfully, this is between us. Stay out."
Sarah's attempts turned angry after that. Voicemails poured in: "How dare you ignore me! After everything! You're probably with some rebound bitch! Fine! Rot alone!"
True colors shown: smug dismissal flipped to rage. I blocked the lot, preserving peace.
Emily was supportive: "She's projecting. You've moved on."
By fall, whispers reached us: Sarah was isolated, her job shaky, Jake exposed as a serial dater, broke from bad choices, crashing with friends. Mutuals stopped defending her once the truth surfaced.
Thanksgiving rolled around faster than I expected, about two months after her angry voicemails peaked. Emily and I had been dating steadily, keeping things respectful but not hiding. The family invite came from Emily's side: her parents hosted every year, and since Sarah was cousins with Emily, it was inevitable we'd cross paths.