Hey everyone! Shailene here. So, the burning question on everyone’s mind: can money buy love? Ugh, it hurts me to even say this, but in my case, yeah, it kinda did. And the worst part? The ones who bought and sold it were the people closest to me — my mother and my supposed soulmate, Jamie…

Before I unleash this crazy rollercoaster of emotions, let’s rewind a bit. Remember those butterflies-in-your-stomach moments when you meet someone who makes your heart skip a beat?

Yeah, that’s exactly how it felt when I met Jamie.

It was like something straight out of a rom-com. We connected instantly at a party through a mutual friend and bam! Coffee date the next week, official couple status a few days later.

Jamie and I were, well, almost perfect. We finished each other’s sentences, laughed at the same dumb jokes, and could spend hours just lost in conversation.

Okay, maybe not entirely perfect.

There was this tiny detail — his occasional inferiority complex. You see, I come from a pretty wealthy family. My dad built a successful business from the ground up, and after he passed away five years ago, my mom, Alice, became the total boss lady, running the whole thing.

Luxury was kind of my birthright. Designer clothes, fancy vacations, the whole shebang. Jamie, on the other hand, came from a working-class family.

He had a good job as a mechanic, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t exactly champagne wishes and caviar dreams. Now, this never bothered me. Love is love, right? But apparently, not for everyone.

Definitely not my Momma Dearest.

From the moment I introduced Jamie, my mom had this permanent disapproval scowl plastered on her face.

“Honey, he’s just not… the right fit for our family,” she’d say, her voice dripping with disappointment. “Think about what people will say. Society expects a certain type of man for someone like you.”

Ugh, please. Society could shove its expectations where the sun doesn’t shine. I was in love, and I wasn’t going to let some stuffy social norms dictate my happiness. So, I did what any self-respecting, slightly rebellious daughter would do.

I told her, “Mom, with all due respect, I’m marrying Jamie, with or without your blessing.”

And with that, I stormed out, slamming the door behind me and heading straight to our cozy little apartment that I shared with Jamie.

We were planning a wedding in six months, and I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.

Fast forward a few months, everything was wedding bells and butterflies — venue booked, dress picked out, invitations ready to be printed. I even snagged an amazing caterer who promised the most decadent chocolate fountain ever seen at a wedding.

But everything shattered that evening when I walked into the apartment, arms full of takeout bags, ready to celebrate another successful wedding planning meeting.

The scene that greeted me wasn’t exactly what I’d envisioned. Half-empty suitcases lay open on the floor, clothes thrown haphazardly inside. My heart lurched, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

There, in the middle of the chaos, sat Jamie, packing his stuff.

“Jamie?” I croaked. “Are you… are you going somewhere?”

He looked up, his face etched with a kind of ignorance that made my breath catch in my throat.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, after a long, agonizing silence, he forced out a sentence that shattered my world into a million pieces.

“Shailene, I want to BREAK UP with you. AND CANCEL THE WEDDING.”

Tears streamed down my face as a gasp escaped my lips. The chocolate fountain, the dress, the butterflies — all of it seemed to evaporate into thin air. My world was crumbling around me.

“What? Why?” I stammered. Jamie wouldn’t meet my gaze. He just approached the couch and sat.

“Jamie, please,” I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His words stung sharper than a shard of glass.

“No,” I cried. “Please… I can’t… I… Jamie… Please…”

But he wouldn’t meet my gaze. He just sat there, his jaw clenched so tight I swear I heard his teeth grinding.

“Jamie, please,” I pleaded. “Tell me what’s going on. This isn’t funny!”

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the image of him sitting across from me. A choked sob escaped my lips, shattering the silence that stretched between us like an eternity.

He flinched at the sound, his head snapping up to meet my eyes for a fleeting moment. But then, he looked away again, his face etched with a kind of annoyance that I’d never seen before.

“It’s not a joke, Shailene, I meant every word.”

“But why?” I cried, my voice rising in panic. “We weren’t fighting… there were no misunderstandings. What happened suddenly?”

I reached across the table, my hand trembling as I grasped for his. He recoiled, his eyes filled with regret and something I couldn’t decipher.

“Jamie,” I whimpered. “Did I do something wrong? I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, just tell me what it is, and I’ll fix it. I love you, Jamie. I can’t live without you.”

My words were unanswered. He stared at his hands folded in his lap, a statue of despair. The silence stretched on, each passing moment a raw agony.

“Is this about the wedding?” I finally ventured, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest. “Maybe we can postpone it, downsize it, anything! Just don’t throw everything away, Jamie. We can work through this.”

He shook his head, a slow, deliberate movement that sent a fresh wave of despair crashing over me. “No, Shailene,” he said. “It’s not the wedding.”

“Then what is it?” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “Tell me! Don’t you dare do this to me, Jamie. We built a life together, dreams, plans…”

After a moment of agonizing silence, Jamie spoke again.

“Shailene,” he started, then stopped, taking a deep breath as if gathering his courage. “I don’t love you anymore. And you need to forget me and move on.”

His words were a fresh blow, a knife twisting in the open wound of my heart. “Don’t love me anymore?” I cried. “But how? We just…”

The image of our shared dreams, whispered promises and stolen kisses flashed in my mind.

“There’s no ‘how,’” he interrupted, his voice firm for the first time that evening. “It just… changed.”

“Changed?” I shrieked, my anger finally bubbling over. “Was this some sudden epiphany? Did you wake up this morning and decide you don’t love me anymore?”

He flinched at my outburst, but his gaze remained steady. “It’s not that simple, Shailene.”

“Then explain it to me!” I demanded. “Don’t you dare walk away from this without giving me a real reason!”

“There’s nothing left to explain,” he retorted. “I’m leaving. Now.”

He stood up abruptly and grabbed his things. My heart raced, every inch of me turning numb.

“Wait!” I cried, scrambling to my feet. I reached out for him, but he sidestepped my touch, pushing me back onto the couch.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said, his voice cold and unfamiliar.

“Jamie, please,” I begged, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Don’t ruin our happiness. We can talk.”

But he was already moving towards his half-packed suitcases, his resolve hardening with each step.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shailene,” he said. “It’s over.”

He bent down and started shoving clothes back into his suitcase, his movements frantic and almost desperate.

“No, it’s not over!” I shouted, my voice shaking with rage and despair. “You can’t just waltz into my life, break my heart, and then walk away like nothing happened!”

Jamie paused, his hand hovering over the suitcase for a moment. Then, he straightened up and met my gaze, his eyes filled with a flicker of something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

“I wish it were that easy, Shailene,” he mumbled. “But it’s too late. I’m sorry. Move on. I just need to go. I’m catching a bus to my parents’ place in an hour.”

He bent down to pick up his remaining suitcase, but before he could lift it, I lunged for him. I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest, the tears flowing freely now.

“Don’t leave, Jamie,” I sobbed. “Please. I love you.”

He stood there for a moment, his body rigid in my embrace. Then, he gently pried my arms loose, his touch tender.

“I’m sorry, Shailene,” he whispered. “But this is goodbye.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving me standing there in the wreckage of our once-perfect future.

Tears streamed down my face as I watched him disappear down the hallway. And onto the streets. His betrayal crushed me, stealing the air from my lungs.

I cried so much and started throwing away pictures of Jamie and me.

It had only been 10 minutes since he broke up with me and left, but I was already in chaos. I hurled the teddy bears he’d gifted me, the ashtray I’d given him, plates, vases — everything flew.

Finally, I collapsed on the floor, exhausted and devastated. That’s when I noticed something under the bed.

“A bag??” I gasped and pulled it out.

Curiosity gnawed at me. I unzipped it, my fingers trembling as I peered inside.

And that’s when I saw it.

Stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills. A sickening amount of it.

Underneath the bills lay a single sheet of paper, folded in half. My trembling fingers unfolded it, and a wave of dizziness hit me as I recognized my mother’s elegant handwriting.

“Here’s $100,000 as agreed. I hope you will disappear from my daughter’s life tomorrow and never come back!”

My blood ran cold. The truth slammed into me with the force of a freight train. My mom. It had all been her doing. She’d bought Jamie off, paid him to walk away from our life together.

“WHY?? Why do this to me? Why break my heart like this… both of you? YOU BETRAYED ME,” I yelled into the void.

I was broken. And Jamie? He… he chose MONEY over ME? How could he??

Realizing he’d come back for the bag of money he’d forgotten in his hurry, I snapped away my tears and plotted a plan. Rising from the ashes of heartbreak, I gathered my things and left the house with the bag of money.

Boarding a plane to Boston, thousands of miles from my hometown, a stray tear slid down my cheek. I vowed never to see my mother again. Or think about Jamie.

Fast forward a year, and I’ve started a new life in Boston with that money. I have my own art studio now, but I’ve lost my belief in love and chose to remain single.

One day, a call back to a friend in my hometown brought a bittersweet update. My mother, the orchestrator of my heartbreak, had faced financial ruin and was bankrupt.

As for Jamie, the man who prioritized money over love? He was now a fast-food restaurant cleaner, a far cry from the future we envisioned.

I hung up the phone, a triumphant smile playing on my lips. Karma, it seemed, had a way of evening the score. While my mother succeeded in breaking my love, she ended up losing her daughter. And Jamie? Well, his choices spoke for themselves.

I’m lonely, but this solitude is slowly helping me heal from the scars they inflicted.

Here’s another heartwarming story: A cryptic call on her engagement night shatters Claire’s perfect world. Unraveling her fiancé’s secrets forces her to question everything she thought she knew. Will Claire ever find love again?

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.