I cocked my head slightly. "No, you gave up me, and now you're paying the price."
She stepped forward, reaching for my hand. I stepped back.
"Don't," I said. "Don't even pretend to care now."
"You can't just throw away two years!" she cried.
"You threw them away first."
And then I pulled out the final piece of my revenge from the table. I picked up the manila envelope and handed it to her.
"What is this?"
"Open it."
Inside, a letter: a copy of the legal complaint I filed for intentional infliction of emotional distress, alongside an official notice from her university friend, Tasha—the one she had lied about seeing. The letter read: "To whom it may concern, I did not see Lena Hart at any time between March 12th to 17th. Any claims otherwise are false."
She dropped the paper like it burned her. "You... you planned all of this."
"No, Lena," I said softly. "You did."
Lena stood frozen in my living room, her mouth slightly open as if air had just been knocked out of her lungs. The envelope trembled in her hands. She hadn't expected this. She thought I'd rage, scream, maybe even cry. But I wasn't giving her the satisfaction of emotion. No, I was giving her consequences.