When you parted ways, the cord didn’t snap—it just became an invisible leash.

You spent your days in the trenches of his digital life. You weren’t just a spectator; you were a hunter. You tracked the women in his comments like prey, scouring their profiles for the scent of him.

Tearing through Facebook, Instagram, and X,

Dissecting every woman who dared to leave a heart,

Every girl standing too close in a blurry frame.

You weren’t just watching. You were a woman possessed by a man who was already gone.

You became a forensic scientist of the “Follow” list,

A ghost haunting the algorithm.

You tracked the scent of him through likes and timestamps,

Searching for her—the other, the anybody, the next.

You scrolled until your thumb went numb,

The wedding news was the final nail. You scrutinized the bride with a microscope made of envy. You stripped her of her beauty, her grace, and her humanity in your mind.

When the wedding photos dropped, you didn’t see a celebration—you saw a target. You took her apart piece by piece.

“No style.”
“No class.”
“Is this the prize?”

You whispered to the silence of your room. You held your hurt up to the light and called it “judgment,” desperate to believe he had settled for less so you wouldn’t feel less.