"Jake, pick up. I know you're there. Mike was a mistake, okay? He flipped out over nothing and kicked me out. I'm at my sister's now and it's awful. We had something good. You can't just throw it away like this. Call me back."
Her voice cracked a bit, but the manipulation shone through: framing it as my fault, minimizing her betrayal. I deleted it, blocked the number again, but she escalated.
She used a friend's phone next time, catching me off guard during lunch at work.
"Jake, it's Sarah. Don't hang up."
I paused, fork midway. "What do you want?"
"God, finally. Look, I'm sorry about the party. I was drunk, stressed. Mike showed up and things got weird. But you're being so cold. We lived together for a year. You owe me a conversation at least. Can I come by? Just to talk it over."
The hypocrisy burned. "No, Sarah. You made your choice that night: prioritizing your ex, kicking me out of my own home. We're done."
"But it wasn't like that! You were acting jealous, making everyone uncomfortable. I just needed space. Mike's gone now. He was abusive, controlling. I see that. We can start over, please."
Twisted logic again, blaming my jealousy while admitting Mike's flaws. Her tone shifted from pleading to desperate.
"Jake, I'm broke. Freelance dried up because of all this stress. My friends aren't talking to me. They think I'm the villain, but you know me better. Come on, let's fix this."
I stayed calm, voice even. "Goodbye, Sarah."
I hung up, blocked that number, too.