I Slept with My Ex to Get Revenge — But the Joke Was on Me

I had a simple argument with my boyfriend. The kind you forget in two hours. But pride is a louder voice than reason sometimes. He didn’t apologize, so I decided to disappear for a while—to teach him a lesson.

No note. No call. I just left.

I spent the entire day and night away, waiting for my phone to buzz. It never did. No call. No message. Just silence.

Out of anger—and stupidity—I called my ex. He still wanted me. That night, I went to his place.

Midway through the act, my phone rang.

It was my boyfriend.

The devil in me picked up the call while moaning.

He asked, “Where are you? Are you safe?”

I laughed breathlessly and said, “I’m safe… and being f***ed safely.”

Silence.

Then calmly, he said, “That’s good. As long as you’re safe.”

And he hung up.

Suddenly, everything felt off. Wrong. My body was there, but my soul had hit the brakes. I stopped. I got dressed. I stared at the wall for what felt like hours.

I tried calling him. No answer.

He finally called back—but I froze. I couldn’t talk. I just asked if he was home.

He replied, “Yes, of course.”

“Okay… goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning, I rushed home on a boda. My heart racing. Regret already poisoning every breath.

But when I got there… the house was empty.

Furniture gone. Clothes gone. TV gone. Even my body lotion and toothbrush were missing. He took everything that he had bought.

I called him.

He picked up just to say, “Stop calling me.”

I asked about the keys.

He replied, “Check behind the meter box.”

Click.

Blocked.

I opened WhatsApp to see a single message from him:

“If you’re really pregnant—and that’s mine—do what’s best for both of us. Abort before it’s too late.”

I collapsed. The floor felt like it was swallowing me whole.

But here’s where it got worse.

That night, my friend Titi called me, sobbing.

She said, “Babe… I need to tell you something. I just found out he’s in Kenya. He left the country the morning after your call.”

“What?”

She continued, “And… he’s not alone. He traveled with his ex. The one before you. They’re engaged now. They posted a photo—captioned, ‘Sometimes the wrong one leads you to the right one.’”

I felt my lungs seize.

Then came the last blow:

He never was at the house when he said “I’m home.” He’d already cleared out everything. The ‘goodnight’ was just a final curtain call.

He had already been planning to leave. The argument? A trap. He knew something was off. He knew me. The call wasn’t a check-in—it was a goodbye. And I answered moaning into my own heartbreak.