Gold Digger Dumps Her Poor Boyfriend, Then Regrets It Badly – Story of the Day

Is life over after a heartbreaking breakup? Not for Stuart. When he proposed to his girlfriend Margot, she cruelly mocked: 'I want someone who can give me the life I crave... not a pauper!' She offered Stuart one last chance to impress her. After he failed, she dumped him, only to regret it later.

The aroma of garlic and rosemary wafted through the tiny cottage, swirling around Stuart like a warm hug. Moonlight seeping through the windows cast long shadows across the worn wooden table adorned with mismatched floral plates.

A single candle, nestled in a chipped ceramic holder cast a romantic glow on the two wine glasses filled with ruby-red Merlot.

A nervous flutter danced in Stuart's stomach. Tonight was the night. He'd been planning this for weeks, ever since he unearthed his late Grandma's ring from the dusty depths of a forgotten jewelry box.

It wasn't a flashy diamond, but the intricate floral etching on the gold band whispered stories of a love that transcended time. He couldn't imagine his girlfriend Margot saying no...

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The slam of the front door sent a jolt through Stuart. A clatter of stilettos echoed on the wooden stairs, each click a drumbeat against his racing heart.

A moment later, Margot burst into the room.

"Margot, darling!" Stuart called out, his voice cracking a touch with excitement. He scurried to hide the velvet box behind his back, palms slick with sweat.

"Honey, you won't believe the night I had!" she gushed, tossing her purse onto the battered armchair. "Jessica's bachelorette party was insane! Strippers, karaoke, the whole shebang!"

Her enthusiasm faltered as she took in the setting. A frown creased her perfectly manicured brow. "What's all this for?"

"It's a surprise," Stuart said, a nervous smile plastered on his face. He closed his eyes for a fortifying breath. "Come here, close your eyes."

"A surprise?" Margot exclaimed.

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Stuart's heart lurched as she hesitated, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. But then, with a theatrical sigh, she complied. He led Margot to the table, his hands cupped gently over her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself to one knee, the velvet box clutched tight in his hand.

"Margot," Stuart began, "we've been through so much together. You're my best friend, my confidant, the love of my life. I can't imagine spending one more day without you by my side!"

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackling fire in the hearth. Stuart looked at Margot. The smile he expected was absent. Instead, she was staring at the ring with a look that could only be described as… disappointment.

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Stuart's smile evaporated. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "This isn't just any ring, Margot. It's my Grandma Diana's."

Her brow furrowed further. "And? Is your grandma royalty or something?"

Stuart blinked, speechless for a moment. "No, but…"

"Look, Stuart, this is sweet," Margot interrupted, picking up the ring and turning it over in her fingers. "But honestly. Did you get this at a thrift store?"

"Absolutely not! It's family heirloom," Stuart declared.

The words hit Stuart like a physical blow. The warmth in the room seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden chill. He stared at Margot, the woman he loved, the woman who'd claimed to love him, and saw nothing but a stranger obsessed with materialistic things.

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The playful glint in Stuart's eyes vanished, replaced by a dull ache that spread through his chest. He forced a smile, brittle and unconvincing. "You're kidding, right, Margot? This is some elaborate joke…. right?"

Her lips thinned into a hard line. "Joke? Stuart, are you serious? You think I'd settle for this… this cheap costume jewelry?"

Stuart stared at the ring. "It's not costume jewelry, Margot. It has history, sentiment…"

The warmth of the candlelight seemed to mock Stuart, casting flickering shadows on the wall that mirrored the turmoil in his heart. "Realistic? Margot, we've been together for two years. We practically live together!" he voiced.

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"Practically?" she echoed, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "Living in this… this fixer-upper with a roof that leaks every time it rains and a car that sputters its last breath every other block? That's your idea of happily ever after? Like really?"

Stuart's smile died completely. Margot's words were a cold slap, shattering the picture-perfect future he'd envisioned. "But… but we can work on it, Margot. We can fix the car, save up for a better place. And—"

A wave of despair washed over Stuart. How could she even say that?

"What about our love, Margot? Doesn't that count for anything?" he pleaded.

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Margot threw her head back and laughed, a hollow sound that echoed in the small room.

"Love is great, darling, but it doesn't put food on the table or diamonds on my finger! You haven't had a steady job in months, and all your 'entrepreneurial ventures' fizzle out before they even get started. How exactly are you planning to provide for a wife?"

Those words stabbed Stuart. "I'm trying, darling. I'll find something, I promise. Just give me a chance."

"A chance?" she laughed. "I've given you two years. Two years of putting up with this… this existence. Don't you think I deserve better?"

Stuart flinched, the sting of her words echoing in his mind. "But I love you, Margot. I… I can't live without you."

Stuart's throat tightened. He stared at Margot, the woman he thought he knew, the woman he loved, and saw a stranger now — shallow, materialistic, and utterly devoid of empathy.

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Stuart forced a smile, the gesture strained and unconvincing. "Hey, you gotta trust me, honey. Things will pick up, you'll see. I've got job applications out at a bunch of great companies. Something's bound to stick."

Margot snorted, a harsh sound that scraped against Stuart's already frayed nerves. "You say that every month. Every. Single. Month. And where does it get us? NOWHERE!"

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Look around you, Stuart! My friends are getting married, going on exotic vacations… the Bahamas, Bali… all while we're stuck here in this… this… fixer-upper!" Her voice rose with each word, punctuated by a jab of her finger towards the leaky roof he'd been meaning to fix for months.

"We can travel later, honey," Stuart pleaded, a flicker of desperation creeping into his voice. "Just give me a little more time."

He reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly near her face. Margot flinched away, her eyes flashing with icy disdain. "Don't touch me!"

The sting of her words was a physical blow. Stuart recoiled, his hand dropping limply to his side.

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"Two years," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge. "I've given you two whole years, and what do I have to show for it? The same leaky roof, the same sputtering car, the same… the same everything!"

Margot's gaze swept around the room, taking in the chipped furniture and mismatched décor. A sneer twisted her lips. "This isn't the life I wanted. This is… this is poverty!"

Stuart swallowed hard, fear of losing Margot flooding his mouth. "I… I'm working on it, honey. I promise."

"Working on what?" she shot back. "How much money do you even have in the bank right now, Stuart? Enough for a week's worth of ramen?"

Shame burned in his cheeks. He knew the answer, but it felt like a betrayal to speak it aloud.

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"Look," Margot continued, her voice clipped, "if you can't give me the things I want, the things I deserve, then maybe it's time you found someone of your level."

She stalked towards the fishbowl on the side table, a cruel glint in her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the ring flying. It landed with a plop in the murky water, the gold glinting mockingly amidst the plastic decorations and fish.

"Margot, wait!" Stuart cried, scrambling after her. "Please, don't do this."

She paused. "I've waited long enough, Stuart. And frankly, I'm tired of waiting."

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Margot let out a humorless laugh. "Will you quit it with the 'love' bit? Your love isn't enough. And if you want another chance," she added, her voice hardening, "then you better be ready to spend some money."

A sliver of hope, thin and fragile, pierced through the fog of despair. A genuine smile, this time unguarded and hopeful, spread across Stuart's face.

"Really? You'd give us another chance?"

"The Marble Café," Margot said, her earlier disdain replaced by a calculating glint in her eyes. "Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. And this," she tapped her perfectly manicured finger against her chest, "is your last chance, Stuart. The last date. Don't mess it up."

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving behind the echo of her words and a heartbroken man staring at a fishbowl filled with a broken dream and his grandmother's ring.

Stuart spent the next few hours digging out his best clothes, a nervous energy thrumming through his veins. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to turn things around. To win Margot back. To prove to her, and maybe even himself, that he was more than just an unemployed guy with a leaky roof.

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The following evening…

The clinking of silverware and hushed conversations filled the bustling café. Stuart pushed open the glass door, a nervous flutter in his stomach.

There she was, at a corner table, bathed in the warm glow of a Tiffany lamp. Margot looked stunning in the designer dress that shimmered like moonlight on water.

A smile tugged at Stuart's lips. "Hey there, beautiful!"

Margot glanced up from her phone and smirked. That's all.

Stuart slid into the seat opposite her, the worn leather cool beneath his palm. An awkward silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of her perfectly manicured nails on the phone screen.

"I...," he began, trying to break the ice, "I'm so glad we're doing this, honey."

A single, noncommittal shrug was his answer. Margot's eyes remained glued to the phone, scrolling through a seemingly endless stream of Instagram pictures.

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Stuart cleared his throat again, forcing a smile. "You look amazing in that dress, by the way."

A barely-there smirk played on her lips. "Thanks." The response was mumbled, her attention already flitting back to the phone.

A waiter, young and eager to please, materialized at their table. "Good evening, lovebirds!" he chirped, his smile a touch too wide. "Sir, is your wife ready to order?"

Margot's head shot up, her eyes flashing with irritation. "We're not married," she snapped. "I'm just his girlfriend."

The waiter's smile dwindled. "Oh, apologies, ma'am. So, what can I get you started with tonight?"

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Stuart felt a pang of humiliation, a dull ache settling in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Margot.

With a flourish, she snatched the menu from Stuart's hand. "I'll have the Marble Steak Roast, medium rare. And the Lobster Stew. With Asparagus Salad and a bottle of Pinot noir."

The waiter scribbled on his notepad. "Excellent choices, ma'am. And for you, sir?"

Stuart stared at the menu, his heart hammering against his ribs. Whopping prices danced before his eyes, a dizzying blur of dollar signs. Cold sweat prickled his skin.

"Actually," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "I'll just have a glass of water, please."

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Margot scoffed, a dismissive sound that sent another wave of shame washing over him. The waiter raised an eyebrow.

"Certainly, sir. Would you like to see the dessert menu, or perhaps some coffee?"

Stuart shook his head, the lump in his throat making speech almost impossible. "No, that's all for me, thanks."

Margot didn't even look up as the waiter retreated. She continued to scroll through her phone, oblivious to the turmoil churning within Stuart.

Each passing second felt like an eternity. The silence was deafening, broken only by the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of silverware from nearby tables.

Stuart stole a glance at Margot, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the phone screen. A stranger, lost in a world where likes and comments mattered more than the man sitting across from her.

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Stuart finally couldn't bear it any longer. He reached across the table, his hand hovering hesitantly over hers.

"Margot," he began, "I… I love you. So much."

She finally tore her gaze away from the phone, her eyes stormy. "Love," she scoffed, a harsh edge to her voice. "Funny you should mention that, considering your… epic disaster of a proposal!"

Stuart's smile shrunk, a flicker of pain crossing his face. He quickly recovered, forcing a lightness that felt hollow. "Right, well, about that…"

"Don't," she cut him off, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Let's just… forget about that disaster, okay?"

Stuart nodded slowly, a knot tightening in his stomach. Maybe, just maybe, if the dinner went well tonight, things could still be salvaged.

Margot scanned him head-to-toe, a critical crease appearing between her brows. "Couldn't you find something… nicer to wear?"

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Stuart glanced down at his clothes, the worn but well-maintained suit a gift from his late father on his last birthday. A warmth, followed by a pang of sadness, washed over him.

"This is my best suit," he said.

Shame burned in Stuart's cheeks again, a hot flush creeping up his neck. He forced himself to meet Margot's gaze, refusing to let her break him.

"So," he began, "how do I prove my love, then? What do I need to do to make things right?"

A slow, predatory smile spread across Margot's face. "Start spending money. Real money. Like all those rich boyfriends my friends have!"

Stuart swallowed hard, the knot in his stomach twisting tighter. "Vacations? Trips to Bali?"

"Bingo!" she snapped her fingers, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Gold. Diamonds. The finer things in life."

A wave of despair washed over Stuart. "Margot, I… I would love to do that for you. You're my queen and you know it. It's just that I don't have that kind of money right now. But I'm working on it, I promise. Just give me a little more time."

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She rolled her eyes, a look of disgust twisting her features. "Look, I'm starving. And frankly, I'm not in the mood to listen to your nonsense promises."

Just then, the waiter arrived with her food, a symphony of aromas filling the air. Succulent steak, fragrant lobster stew, and a vibrantly colored salad adorned the table. Margot dug in with gusto, her previous annoyance forgotten.

Stuart watched her, his heart a lead weight in his chest. Every bite she took, every sip of the expensive wine she'd ordered, felt like a nail being hammered into his already fragile hope.

He took a tentative sip from his glass of water, the coolness offering a small comfort in the face of the impending financial storm. The clinking of her silverware against the plate echoed in the tense silence. Stuart knew the bill would arrive soon.

Thirty minutes melted away in a blur of clinking glasses and hushed conversations. Margot ate with focused silence, the only sound the rhythmic scrape of her fork against the plate.

Stuart watched her, a hollow ache settling in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

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"So," he finally managed, his voice hoarse, "did you enjoy the meal?"

She glanced up, satisfaction brimming in her eyes. "Yeah, it was good. Way better than your attempts at cooking!"

That hurt. Still, Stuart forced a smile, brittle and unconvincing.

Just then, the waiter reappeared, a dazzling smile stretching across his face. He placed the bill on the table with a flourish. "Everything alright here? You two enjoyed your dinner?"

"It was great," Stuart mumbled, averting his gaze from the little leather folder that now loomed between them like a financial guillotine.

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and picked up the bill. A gasp escaped his lips as his eyes scanned the numbers. The price, a staggering three-digit figure, mocked him from the white paper as the waiter left to take another order.

Sweat beaded on Stuart's temples, turning his palms clammy. He fumbled with his wallet, pulling out a meager collection of bills. He counted them twice, then thrice, his heart sinking further with each tally. It wasn't even close.

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"Uh, Margot," he whispered. "I… I seem to be a little short. Do you mind adding a few bucks…?"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. The fury in Margot's eyes was a punch to the gut.

"Are you kidding me, Stuart?" she snapped, her voice laced with ice. "You dragged me out here, promised me a fancy dinner, and now you can't even afford it?"

Shame burned through him, a searing fire that consumed his remaining hope. "I… I thought I had enough," he stammered.

"You thought?" she shrieked, her voice rising above the murmur of the other diners. "This isn't some cheap diner, Stuart! This is a place for people who can actually afford to eat here!"

Stuart's face flushed crimson, the sting of her words burning hotter than the shame. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. "Margot, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Can't we just…"

Her words shattered the last vestiges of Stuart's hope. They echoed in his head, mocking his dreams, his love... every little thing he'd ever believed in.

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Just then, the waiter reappeared, his smile replaced by a concerned frown. "Is there a problem, sir?" he asked, his gaze flitting between them.

Stuart opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Shame choked him, a relentless tide threatening to drown him.

Margot, in a fit of uncontrolled rage, launched into a tirade. "The problem," she spat, her voice trembling with fury, "is that I agreed to come here with a man who can't even pay for his own dinner! Who begs his girlfriend for money like a child!"

Her voice rose to a screech, drawing the attention of the entire restaurant. Guests turned in their seats, their faces curious.

A sob escaped Stuart's lips, a raw sound that ripped through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself invisible.

The waiter cleared his throat, his face grim. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "But I'll need to get the manager involved. I'll be right back."

Stuart sank further into his chair, his body numb like a corpse. The once charming restaurant now felt like a cage, filled with the judgmental eyes of strangers and the venomous words of the woman he loved.

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Tears welled up in Stuart's eyes, blurring the harsh glare of the overhead lights. He fought to blink them back, a choked sob catching in his throat.

"Margot," he rasped, "why do you treat me like this? I… I just wanted to make you happy."

She scoffed, a cruel twist of her lips. "Happy? My happiness is bigger than a dinner and a cheap ring fished out of a fishbowl, you idiot!"

Start's heart lurched, a sickening thud against his ribs. "But… but I thought…"

"You thought wrong," she cut him off. "There are men out there, real men, who can give me the things I deserve. Diamonds. Luxurious vacations. Not… not this."

A dismissive gesture, a flick of her manicured hand, encompassed their entire evening… and their relationship. Shame and heartbreak washed over Stuart.

That was the final blow. The one that shattered the last fragile pieces of Stuart's hope.

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Just then, the manager, a portly man with a kind face, approached their table.

"Sir, the waiter informed me there seems to be a bit of a situation," he said, his voice gentle.

Stuart swallowed hard. "I… I apologize," he stammered. "I'm just a few bucks short."

A flicker of understanding passed through the manager's eyes. He glanced at Margot, whose face was a mask of icy disdain. Before Stuart could speak another word, she stood up, her purse clutched tightly in her hand.

"This is all your fault, Stuart," she hissed, her voice trembling with anger and shame. "I'm so embarrassed."

Without another word, she stormed out of the restaurant.

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The manager sighed, his gaze lingering on the retreating figure. He turned back to Stuart, a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

"Listen," he began, his voice low and reassuring. "There's a way we can settle this."

Relief flooded Stuart, a fragile hope flickering back to life. He explained the situation, his voice regaining a semblance of strength.

The manager listened patiently, nodding in understanding. When Stuart finished, a smile creased the corners of his eyes.

"Alright, here's what we'll do," the manager said, his voice warm. "Once the other guests leave, you can help out by mopping the floor and cleaning the tables. Consider it payment for the remaining amount."

Stuart hesitated for a moment, then a shaky "okay!" escaped his lips. It wasn't ideal, but it was a way out. A way to salvage his dignity, a shred of which still clung to him.

For the next hour, he worked tirelessly, sweat beading on his forehead. The sting of the mop handle against his raw palms was a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil within.

Stuart cleaned tables and mopped the floors, his movements mechanical, fueled by exhaustion and a sliver of hope.

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Finally, as the last customer left and the restaurant fell silent, the manager clapped him on the shoulder.

"Alright, son, you're all done. Your bill is settled. You can leave."

Stuart straightened up, his body aching but a spark of gratitude illuminated his eyes. "Thank you," he replied with a smile. "I… I really appreciate this."

The manager smiled kindly. "No problem at all. Go home. Get some rest."

Stuart nodded, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A small, desperate hope fluttered within him: Maybe Margot's waiting for me. Maybe she needs to vent some more, be angry some more, but after that, she'll give me another chance. Maybe, just maybe, this isn't the final chapter, but a turning point.

Stuart grabbed his coat. Stepping out into the cool night air, he took a deep breath, the future stretching before him, uncertain yet filled with a faint glimmer of possibility.

The familiar creak of the front door of his cottage offered a soothing welcome. "Margot?" he called out.

Silence answered Stuart, thick and heavy. He flipped on the living room light, the sudden brightness momentarily blinding. Just then, a slow, angry clap echoed from upstairs.

His heart lurched. Margot stood upstairs, arms crossed, a stormy look on her face.

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"There you are," Stuart said, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. "You won't believe the night I had. The manager was so kind and—"

Margot uncrossed her arms, her eyes blazing with fury. "Oh, I can imagine," she scoffed. "Worst. Night. Ever."

The smile died on Stuart's face. "But hey," he continued, pushing forward, his arms outstretched in a tentative embrace, "at least we had a good dinner, right? Come down and hug me!"

Margo recoiled as if slapped. "Hug you?" she shrieked, snatching a pillow from the nearby sofa and hurling it at him. It caught Stuart square in the chest, the air whooshing out of his lungs.

Tears welled up in Stuart's eyes.

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"Margot, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Don't say that."

She stormed away and slammed the bedroom door shut, the sound echoing through the silent house like a gunshot. Stuart stood there, the weight of the pillow a dead weight in his arms.

He tossed it onto the couch, the simple act requiring a Herculean effort. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, crashed down on him. He shuffled towards his study, his haven, the only place that offered him solace in the storm of his life.

Collapsing into the rickety chair at his desk, he stared at his half-finished project, the wires and circuits a tangle of unfulfilled dreams.

With a shaky breath, Stuart reached for his tools, the familiar feel grounding him. He worked through the night, fueled by anger, despair, and a desperate need to prove something, not just to Margot, but to himself.

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The minutes bled into hours. The soft hum of the soldering iron and the rhythmic rasp of Stuart's breath filled the room. Dawn peeked through the window, painting the room in a soft, rose-gold light.

Stuart groggily sat up, his eyes burning from lack of sleep, his muscles protesting. He stretched, a wave of dizziness washing over him. But then, he saw it. A tiny flicker of light followed by a reading on the meter, a testament to countless sleepless nights and unwavering determination.

His invention, the one he'd poured his heart and soul into, was working. It hummed with a quiet power, a promise of a brighter future.

A surge of elation coursed through Stuart, chasing away the remnants of exhaustion. He did it! He could get a patent and approach companies. This invention could be his ticket out, his chance to build a life on his own terms.

A triumphant smile spread across Stuart's face. He needed to share this with Margot, to see the surprise, maybe even a hint of admiration, in her eyes.

He bolted up the stairs, his heart pounding with a newfound hope. But as he reached upstairs, an eerie silence hit him, heavier and more ominous this time.

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The bedroom door was ajar. Stuart pushed it open, a cold dread pooling in his stomach. The room was empty. Margot's clothes, her shoes, all gone. On the bed, glinting accusingly in the morning light, lay the keys to his cottage.

Beside them lay a small note, the words scrawled in a familiar, cruel handwriting:

Tears streamed down Stuart's face, blurring the vision of the empty room. Memories flickered before him — their first meeting at the bookstore, the nervous excitement of their first kiss, the promise in her eyes during their first dinner all those years ago.

Each shard of a broken dream ripped Stuart's heart apart.

Margot's cruel words echoed in his head. "Loser!" The word felt like a branding iron, searing its mark onto his soul.

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A sudden shrill ring shattered the silence. Stuart fumbled for his phone, a sliver of hope flickering within him. Maybe it was her. But an unknown number flashed on the screen.

He swiped to answer, his voice a mere tremor. "Hello?"

"Mr. Wesley?" A crisp, professional voice filled his ear. "This is Mr. Woods from Green Tech Industries. I'm calling about your online portfolio."

The flicker of hope sputtered and died. Disappointment washed over Stuart, a cold wave threatening to drown him again. He wasn't prepared for another rejection. Not now.

"Yes, Mr. Woods," he managed, his voice barely a whisper.

"I must say, Mr. Wesley," Mr. Woods continued, his tone enthusiastic, "we were very impressed with your work. Particularly your focus on energy-efficient solutions."

A spark ignited within Stuart, a tiny ember fighting to survive the storm. "Really?" he croaked, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

"Absolutely!" Mr. Woods replied. "We'd like to offer you a position as a Junior Research Engineer on our upcoming sustainability project. It's a great opportunity to work with some of the brightest minds in the field."

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Stuart's breath hitched. This was it. The validation he craved, the chance to prove his worth, not to Margot, but to himself.

"I… I'm honored," he stammered, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "Thank you, Mr. Woods. I'm interested."

"Excellent!" Mr. Woods said, his voice booming with delight. "We'd like you to come in for a screening tomorrow at 10 AM sharp. Feel free to bring along any samples of your work, a project perhaps, to showcase your skills."

"A project?" Stuart repeated, his gaze falling on the humming device on his desk. A surge of pride coursed through him. "Yes, Mr. Woods. I have something I can definitely bring!"

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He hung up the phone, a wave of relief washing over him. For the first time in a long time, the future didn't seem so bleak. He had a chance, a real chance, to build something of his own.

Stuart immediately dialed Margot's number, his fingers trembling with hope and trepidation. But the automated voice that greeted him extinguished the flickering ember: "The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

Disappointment gnawed at him, a dull ache settling in his chest. He tried calling Carlie, one of Margot's closest friends. Maybe she knew where Margot was, maybe she could explain.

Carlie picked up after two rings. "Stuart?"

"Carlie," he choked out. "Do you know where Margot is?"

A long pause followed, then a sigh. "Listen, Stuart," Carlie began, her voice hesitant. "Margot told me to tell you… to forget about her. And move on."

"Thank you, Carlie. I will," he said and hung up.

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Seven years passed…

Stuart stood bathing in the spotlight, the thunderous applause of the crowd washing over him.

He wasn't the same awkward, fumbling guy who'd choked over a cheap dinner bill anymore. Success had sculpted him, etched lines of confidence on his face, and ignited a quiet fire in his eyes.

Tonight, he wasn't just celebrating the launch of his latest groundbreaking invention — a feat that had cemented his reputation as a pioneer in the field of renewable energy. He was celebrating his journey, the one that began with a shattered heart and a dream fueled by confidence.

He adjusted the microphone, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces. A jolt of recognition shot through him, sharp and unexpected.

There, in the front row, sat Margot — the woman who'd dumped him all those years ago.

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"Thank you," he began, his gaze momentarily landing on Margot. "Tonight, I want to share a story with you all. A story of two friends…"

Stuart launched into his narrative, the parable carefully crafted to mirror his own experiences. "These two friends," Stuart continued, his voice ringing out, "both desired immense wealth. But to achieve it, they had to cross a vast, scorching desert. The heat was unbearable, the sand relentless. One friend, overwhelmed by the harsh conditions, simply gave up. He turned back, defeated by the unforgiving sun."

Stuart paused, letting the silence settle before continuing. "But the other friend," his voice grew stronger, "pushed on. He endured the blistering heat, his resolve hardening with every step. Finally, he reached the end of the desert, only to find… nothing. No buried treasure, no glittering oasis. Disappointment gnawed at him. Was all his struggle for nothing?"

A beat of silence hung in the air, mirroring the desolation the friend must have felt. Stuart continued, his gaze flickering back to Margot.

"But then," he said, "the guy spotted something in the distance — snow-capped mountains, majestic and imposing. With renewed hope, he began his ascent. The climb was arduous, the icy winds biting at his skin. Yet, he persevered, driven by an unseen force."

Stuart reached the final line, his voice filled with triumph. "He finally reached a hidden cave, and there, lay his reward — a treasure trove of gold and diamonds! But guarding it was a perilous bridge, made of iron and suspended over a pit of fire. One misstep, and he'd fall to a fiery death."

For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube / DramatizeMe

Stuart took off his glasses, a deliberate gesture that held Margot's gaze.

"Our friend, however," he added, his voice ringing with conviction, "had grown stronger during his journey. The scorching desert had tempered him, the icy climb had honed his focus. He crossed the bridge with unwavering determination, and emerged victorious, claiming his well-deserved reward."

A wave of applause washed over Stuart. He basked in it for a moment, a deep sense of satisfaction warming him from the inside out.

Another wave of applause erupted, louder this time, a symphony of cheers and whistles. The evening wore on with a whirlwind of handshakes, photos, and congratulations.

For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube / DramatizeMe

Stuart posed with eager young engineers and industry bigwigs alike. He was about to head for the celebratory dinner when a voice pierced through the throng.

"Stuart?"

He turned. Margot stood there, a hesitant smile playing on her lips.

"Margot," he replied, a neutral tone in his voice. "Good to see you."

She took a hesitant step forward, her gaze lingering on his face. "You look…amazing," she said.

Stuart shrugged, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in. "So do you. Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Ages," Margot confirmed, a flicker of something akin to guilt flitting across her eyes. "I just wanted to say… I'm so happy for you, Stuart. What you've achieved is incredible."

For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube / DramatizeMe

A weak smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Seven years," he said softly. "A lot can happen in seven years!"

"I know," Margot sighed. "And I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For leaving the way I did."

Stuart offered a curt nod. "It's fine! We were both young and stupid."

"No," Margot insisted. "You weren't stupid, Stuart. You were always brilliant. I… I just didn't see it."

The corner of Margot's mouth twitched, a hint of a defeated smile. "You were always meant for great things, Stuart. I knew that, even back then. I... er... shall we go out? To your favorite restaurant?"

He held her gaze for a long moment, a lifetime of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Then, just as quickly, the moment shattered.

"Honey!" A woman's voice, bright and cheerful, cut through the room.

For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube / DramatizeMe

A woman, strikingly beautiful with warm brown eyes, hurried towards Stuart, a wide smile lighting up her face.

"There you are, love! Everyone's been asking for you."

"Hi, Ivy," Stuart greeted her, his voice warm. "This is… Margot. An old friend."

Margot offered a tight smile, her eyes fixed on the woman holding Stuart's arm.

Ivy, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, beamed at Margot. "It's so nice to meet you!"

She squeezed Stuart's arm affectionately. "Honey, you gave a wonderful speech, by the way. I'm so proud of you."

Margot watched, a cold dread pooling in her stomach. The warmth, the genuine affection between Stuart and Ivy, collided with the emptiness she felt inside.

For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube / DramatizeMe

As Ivy turned back to her, she finally noticed the stunned look on Margot's face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ivy exclaimed, her smile apologetic. "I didn't mean to ignore you. I'm Ivy, by the way. Stuart's girlfriend… and soon-to-be wife!"

Her hand shot out in a friendly gesture, but Margot remained frozen, a statue sculpted from regret and a lost chance.

Then, with one last squeeze of Ivy's hand, Stuart turned and walked away. Haunted by the ghosts of a broken past, Margot felt the echo of his success and happiness ring hollow in her ears.

For illustration purposes only | Source: YouTube / DramatizeMe

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Not all love stories find a happy ending. But some, like mine, have a new beginning. I was dumped and kicked out by my boyfriend when I told him I was pregnant. I was shattered and on the streets. Then, life brought a sliver of hope my way through someone. Here's my story.

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