Revenge Looks Good In Gucci

Homeless café boy

Now, as the sky darkened, he stood in front of the building he calls home. The key trembled in his hand.

Xavier jammed the key into the lock.

Click. But the door wouldn't open.

He tried a second time, twisting harder.

Still nothing.

He had walked home with his head low, a baseball hat covering most of his face. Old Mike had shut the café down for the day because the girl yelling at him over a wrong order had brought so much attention, coupled with his viral failed proposal.

But he was too broken to go home and Amber had offered him her couch instead. Her voice was soft, kind, but even she couldn’t hide the pity in her eyes. “Just wear the cap,” she’d said. “disguise until it blows over.”

But the internet never forgets.

His phone had been buzzing nonstop. Calls. Mentions. Notifications. He turned it off. He couldn’t bear to see his face over and over again– the man who got rejected on TikTok Live.

  “What the hell?” he muttered as he tried opening the door for the third time.

  “Xavier?”

A voice floated from across the yard.

He turned. Mrs. Pritchard stood there in her robe and slippers, clutching her cat like it was a child.

  “I thought someone was trying to break in,” she said, walking toward him. “Didn’t recognize you with the hat.”

He pulled it off slowly. “It’s just me. Sorry if I scared you.”

She tilted her head, studying him like he was a broken-down car. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m  trying to get into my house, but it looks like Lisa changed the lock,” he chuckled nervously. “I'm just going to wait for her, did she leave Emerald with you by any chance?”

Mrs. Pritchard’s eyes softened with fake pity. “Oh dear. You really don’t know, do you?”

He turned to her sharply. “Know what?”

  “Well… I’m not one to gossip…”

  “You literally start every sentence with that, Mrs.Pritchard.” he muttered.

She ignored him. 

  “...but Lisa packed up and left in the morning. She brought a big truck. Took your daughter, the furniture, even that plant she hated. Also that man from the video was with her, you know, the one from your little TikTok show.”

Xavier’s jaw clenched. “Antonio.”

  “That’s his name? Oh well, she said you knew about the move. Also asked me to give you this.” She dug into her robe pocket and handed him an envelope.

He didn’t take it. Just stared at her.

  “She said you would be expecting it.”

  “I’m not.”

Mrs. Pritchard sighed. “Listen, I’ve lived next to you two long enough, for five years if I'm not mistaken. Always thought you were the quiet, dependable type. But maybe that’s the problem.”

Xavier frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m saying... sometimes, women want more than just a man who is soft. They want a man who shows strength, authority and direction. Lisa probably needed that.”

He finally looked at her, really looked at her. “Are you saying I deserved this?”

  “I’m saying maybe if you’d gotten off your comfort zone and stepped up a little more, she wouldn’t have run off with another man,” 

She said with a shrug. “I mean, proposing on TikTok live? That’s not romance, dear. That’s desperation.”

His fists balled. “Respectfully, you don’t know anything about our life, Mrs.Pritchard ”

  “I know enough,” she said. “She was crying so hard when she explained everything to me. Said you always had your head in the clouds. Always planning something but never doing anything real.”

He looked away, shame washed all over him.

  “She packed your things, by the way. They're in black bags behind the house. You should grab them soon, before it rains.”

Xavier turned without a word and walked around the back.

There they were.

Three garbage bags, stuffed with his clothes, books, everything he owned were dumped like yesterday’s trash.

No mercy.

He came back to the front porch, looking disheveled–  eyes wild with disbelief.

  “This can’t be happening,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I was just in this house last night. If Lisa was moving, why the hell would she throw my stuff out?”

Mrs. Pritchard stepped closer, arms crossed over her cardigan, her fluffy cat still tucked under one arm.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she said, tilting her head. “I don’t want to believe what the rumors are saying about you being a little... slow. You’re too cute for that. But really, Xavier? What do you mean you don’t understand why your things are out here?”

She pointed her finger toward the back where his scattered boxes and bags were dumped.

  “The house has been sold.”

  “Sold?” His voice cracked. “No. That’s not possible. I never signed anything. It’s our house. We bought it together.”

Mrs. Pritchard bit her lip, like she was holding back words she didn’t want to say. “Well, technically… her name was the only one on the deed, wasn’t it? You told me that once, you said it made things simpler.”

Xavier stared at her, chest rising and falling like he was being squeezed from the inside.

  “I tried calling you,” she added softly. “I left messages. Your phone just kept going to voicemail.”

  “I… I turned it off,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Too many calls. Too many people tagging me online.”

She gave him a sympathetic look, then held out the letter again.

  “Here. You should probably take this from me now. Lisa said you knew what it was about.”

He took the letter with shaky fingers, and turned back towards the stairs that led to his front door.

  “New owners are coming by this weekend,” Mrs. Pritchard called after him. “Maybe try not to be here when they show up, hmm?”