"Landon?"
I asked. "Completely humiliated. His roommates hate him for bringing her there. Apparently, they almost lost their lease because she kept yelling at people through the walls." I couldn't help but laugh again.
"Karma's undefeated," Billy sighed. "You'd think she'd learn." "She won't," I said. "People like her don't reflect. They just find new targets."
"Yeah," Billy said quietly. "Mom's talking about therapy again. She thinks Minerva might finally have to face herself this time." "I hope so," I said, though I didn't believe it.
Landon had gone completely offline. His old couple posts with her were gone. The roommates' video started circulating privately among mutual friends, and everyone was talking. The story spread fast. Minerva lying about being pregnant to trap him.
By the weekend, she was trending in local gossip circles. Someone even made a meme comparing her to a romance scam on two legs. I didn't comment, didn't react, just sat on my porch drinking coffee, watching my security cameras hum quietly, knowing she couldn't spin this one. Billy texted one last time that night. She's officially out of options.
No job, no guy, no car, just Mom's spare room. Minerva was finally exactly where she belonged, back at square one. And me? I slept better that night than I had in years.
Three months later, life was finally normal again. I was seeing someone new, Rebecca. And for once, the relationship didn't feel like babysitting a full-grown child. She had her own house, her own job, her own car. When we went out, she actually fought me over who paid the check.
It felt strange, but in a good way. We'd been together a couple of months when the peace cracked again. It started small. One of my neighbors texted, "Hey, saw someone sitting in a car outside your driveway for 20 minutes. Looked like your ex."
I checked the security feed. Sure enough, there she was. Minerva sitting in a beat-up sedan scrolling on her phone. I didn't bother going outside. If she wanted a reaction, she wasn't getting one.
But the next day, she came back. And this time, she didn't stay in the car.
It was Saturday evening. Rebecca and I were on the couch watching a movie when a sudden banging hit the front door. Three sharp knocks, then another five. Rebecca frowned. "Expecting someone?"
I shook my head and opened the app for my door camera. There she was, red-faced, messy hair, eyes wild. I sighed. "Guess who?" I stepped outside, phone already recording. "Patrick!"
she screamed, voice cracking. "You're disgusting! You cheated on me!" That one almost made me laugh. "You got engaged to another guy while still living in my house, remember?"
"That was different," she snapped. "We weren't really over. You moved on too fast. Everyone says so."
I leaned against the door frame. "Everyone? Who's left, Minerva? Landon? The guy who filed a police report on you?"
Her face twitched. "You're flaunting that woman online just to hurt me." "Her name's Rebecca," I said calmly. "And she's not you. That's why it works."
She pointed at me, shaking. "You think you can replace me? You'll see. I'll expose you for what you are, a liar and a cheater." "Minerva," I cut in. "The only thing I cheated on was stupidity, and I don't plan on relapsing."
Before she could fire back, Rebecca came from behind me. "Everything okay?" Rebecca asked, staying cool. Minerva's face twisted. "Oh, look, the homewrecker."
Rebecca blinked. "Excuse me?" "You stole my man!" Minerva yelled, stepping toward her. "You ruined my life!"
I stepped between them instantly. "Back off, Minerva." She tried to shove past me, screaming. That was enough. I pulled out my phone again.
"Hi, I need officers at my address," I said into the phone. "My ex-girlfriend's trespassing and trying to attack my partner."
Minerva froze, realizing I was serious. "You're calling the cops again?" "Third time's the charm." Within 10 minutes, two officers pulled up. Different faces this time, but the same tired expressions I'd seen before.
The older one glanced at Minerva and muttered, "Ma'am, what's going on here tonight?" "She attacked me," Minerva said, pointing at Rebecca. The younger officer looked at me. "We got the doorbell footage?" "Full HD," I said, showing him my phone.
It clearly showed Minerva yelling, shoving, and trying to grab Rebecca. The older cop rubbed his temples. "Ma'am, we've warned you before. This is harassment. Step away from the property."
Minerva tried the crying routine. "I just wanted closure." "Closure doesn't involve trespassing," he said flatly. "You're lucky we're not cuffing you, but you are being cited for harassment. One more call, and you'll be arrested."
She went from crying to screaming in two seconds flat. "This is police corruption! He manipulated all of you!" They escorted her down the driveway while she yelled about fake love and lies, like it was an episode of bad reality TV. When they finally drove off with her citation in hand, Rebecca looked at me, wide-eyed.
"That's her." "That's her," I said, picking up the spilled groceries. "And now you see why I have cameras."
The next morning, I went to the courthouse. My lawyer had already sent over the police reports, video files, and her history of showing up uninvited. The judge barely looked up before signing the temporary restraining order. "Given her prior incidents, it's effective immediately," the clerk said. "She can't contact you, show up at your property, or mention you online for 60 days." "Perfect," I said.
Billy texted me that night. "I heard what happened. Mom says the cops warned her that one more stunt means jail. Maybe this will finally wake her up." I replied, "I doubt it, but at least it's official now."
A week later, Minerva's social media went dark. No more rants, no quotes about healing, nothing. Word was she had to start counseling as part of the citation's conditions. Landon had vanished completely, and her own parents were forcing her to pay rent if she wanted to keep staying with them.
Meanwhile, Rebecca and I kept building something real. We'd laugh about small things, plan trips, argue over who got to do the dishes, normal, boring peace. One evening, she looked at me and said, "Do you ever think about her anymore?" I smiled. "Only when the doorbell rings unexpectedly."
She laughed, leaned her head on my shoulder, and that was it. Closure.
Looking back, I realized Minerva never wanted love. She wanted control, a free ride, and an audience. When all three disappeared, so did she. Now my house is quiet. My bills are lower.
My peace is permanent. She once said, "You'll regret losing me." Turns out, I just regretted not losing her sooner. And this time, the door's locked, legally and emotionally.