Rebirth: Love me Again

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[IRAYA]

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Being the only daughter of Zoe and Lawrence Lee, I grew up sheltered, protected, and cherished.

My life was a bubble of love and kindness, where trust came naturally, and betrayal was something I only read about in books. I was naive, guileless, and perhaps, foolishly optimistic.

I believed that the love I gave would always be returned in kind. My family adored me, my friends supported me, and my boyfriend . . . Well, I thought he cherished me. I thought our bond was unbreakable.

But that illusion shattered the moment I held the photos and papers in my trembling hands.

A picture—clear and damning—of my boyfriend and my best friend, locked in a passionate kiss. They were even some videos in where they’re fucking, their intimacy captured in vivid detail. The timestamps were recent, far too recent.

The email, sent by none other than my cousin Lina Fay was proof that this wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was 200% real and authentic.

I expected tears. I expected my heart to crumble under the weight of their betrayal. But what came instead was something I didn’t even know I was capable of—pure, unrelenting rage.

It burned through me, sharp and consuming, leaving no room for sorrow or confusion. I stared at the images, my fingers gripping the edges of the papers so tightly they began to crumple.

My mind replayed every moment I had trusted them, every time I had ignored the nagging doubts, the small red flags.

How could I have been so blind?

I had given them my unwavering trust, my kindness, my love. I had stood by them, defended them, even when they didn’t deserve it. And this . . . this was how they repaid me?

I wanted to scream, to punch something, to break something—anything—but instead, I found myself eerily calm. The storm of emotions inside me began to crystallize into one singular purpose. Revenge.

For the first time in my life, I realized that being good and kind didn’t guarantee anything. My goodness had been mistaken for weakness. My kindness had been taken as an invitation to treat me like a fool.

They thought I was too naive to tolerate this, too soft to fight back.

They were wrong.

I took a deep breath, though it did little to quell the fire inside me. The anger wasn’t fading—it was growing. It wasn’t enough to cry or scream into the void. I needed justice. I needed them to feel the pain they had so carelessly inflicted on me.

Some people might have chosen to let karma handle it, to move on with their lives and let time heal their wounds.

But I wasn’t some people.

I was the karma.

If they thought they could betray me and walk away unscathed, they were mistaken. They had hurt me, broken me, and now, they would have to deal with the consequences.

Moving on didn’t mean forgiving. Moving on didn’t mean forgetting. And if revenge was what it took for me to find peace, then so be it.

They started this war. I would finish it.

My brothers, Ren and Ray, were back in our country, managing our family business. Meanwhile, my parents were abroad, for entirely different reasons mainly honeymoon, leaving me as the sole occupant of my apartment in a foreign country trying to finish law.

Being triplets, my brothers and I had always been inseparable, sharing an unbreakable bond that had weathered every storm life threw at us. But right now, I was alone—no Ren to offer his level-headed advice, no Ray to lighten the mood with his charm. Just me, standing in the aftermath of a betrayal so vile it could have shattered anyone.

I could have told them. I could have called and cried into them, confessing everything, knowing they’d drop everything to come to my rescue.

But I didn’t. I didn’t want them to know. Because if they did, they wouldn’t stop until they exacted their own brand of retribution, and this time, I wanted justice on my terms. For once, I wanted to fight my own battle.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my bag and prepared for my final day of classes before the holiday break. As I passed by the full-length mirror near my closet, I caught a glimpse of my reflection and froze.

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My hair, once a soft chestnut brown, now fell in sleek black waves down my waist. The memory came flooding back, unbidden.

Jason had asked me to dye it black. At the time, I thought it was because he liked it that way. I didn’t question it, blinded by love and eager to please him. But now, standing here, the truth hit me like a punch to the gut.

Kylie.

My so-called best friend had hair just like this—long, silky, and raven-black. And suddenly, I could see all the moments I had ignored, all the red flags I had dismissed in the name of love.

The way Kylie always seemed to tag along on our dates, the subtle shift in Jason’s demeanor whenever she was around. The gifts I bought for him that somehow ended up in her possession. The lingering glances they thought I wouldn’t notice.

I was a fool. A blind, love-struck fool.

But not anymore.

I ran my fingers through my hair, my jaw tightening as anger bubbled up inside me. He had convinced me to change myself to look more like her.

How had I not seen it? The signs had been there all along, yet I had chosen to ignore them.

Not anymore.

The reflection in the mirror stared back at me, and for the first time, I hardly recognized the person looking back.

Gone was the naive girl who clung desperately to Jason’s lies or turned a blind eye to Kylie’s betrayals. No more excuses, no more second chances. I would personally ensure they paid for what they did—one way or another, I would claim my revenge.

This wasn’t just about betrayal anymore. It was about reclaiming my dignity, my self-respect, and getting my well-deserve justice. And they’d regret the day they thought they could fool me.