Three Years Too Late Chapter 01
Three years after we broke up, Kellen Rivett tracked me down at the cat cafe where I worked.
He stood there in a tailored suit, while I was a disheveled, exhausted mess.
He frowned. “It’s only been a few years. How did you let yourself end up like this?”
He didn’t know the truth.
Thanks to him and Denise Waldron, my life had completely unraveled.
Over the last three years, I’d watched Dad die of cancer, dealt with relentless online harassment, and battled severe mental illness.
I’d already pushed myself to the limit just to have the life I had now.
When I didn’t answer, Kellen let out a heavy sigh and offered what he clearly thought was an olive branch.
“Jazlynn, let’s get back together. You obviously aren’t doing well without me.”
I kept my focus on the kitten I was bathing.
Without looking up, I replied in a flat tone, “No.”
I didn’t have it in me to try loving him again. I knew my limits now.
Kellen Rivett froze, surprise flickering in his eyes.
After a long silence, he spoke up, his expression stony.
“Jazlynn, are you still mad?
“Just because I didn’t give you that 35 grand three years ago?”
My hands paused as a wave of disorientation hit me.
Back when he first turned me down, I really had resented him.
But after all that had happened, I was too drained to blame him.
So I just shook my head and said quietly, “No.”
Kellen didn’t believe me.
His eyes locked onto mine, searching.
Then, for the first time, he actually started explaining to me.
“I admit I was harsh back then,” he said.
“But Deny needed the money right then, and my research project was in a critical phase. I really couldn’t spare the cash.
“When my project bonus finally came through, I sent it to you, didn’t I?”
But it was too late.
By the time he sent it, Dad had already died in agony because we couldn’t afford his chemo.
A surge of tears threatened to fall, but I forced them back, swallowing the weight of sorrow pressing in my chest.
I finished rinsing the kitten and carefully lifted him into the drying box.
I patted his head. “Be a good boy, Richie,” I murmured.
The kitten sat perfectly still.
Watching this, Kellen frowned.
“You haven’t changed at all,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. “You’re still completely obsessed with money.”
I finally looked up at him, my face completely blank.
“Because I named the kitten Richie?”
He just stared.
His silence was all the confirmation I needed.
I pulled off my apron, soaking wet and covered in cat hair, and walked silently toward the break room.
The old me would have argued with him.
Now, I was just too tired. I couldn’t muster the energy to say another word.
Kellen followed me.
He watched as I opened my beat-up canvas bag and pulled out a bank card.
I pressed it into his hand.
“I never spent the money you sent me,” I said, my voice dead flat.
Stunned, Kellen gripped the card.
“Didn’t you want to buy a designer bag?” he blurted out. “You never bought it?”
I bit my lip hard and let out a laugh.
But as I did, the tears finally started to fall.
Three years had passed, and he still believed every lie Denise had fed him.
Back then, Dad had just been diagnosed with mid-stage cancer.
With aggressive treatment, he had a real shot at recovery—or at least a lot more time.
But selling our house didn’t bring in much, and even after taking out online loans, we still came up short for the medical bills.
Completely out of options, I had called Kellen for help.
Over the years, Dad had drained his life savings to pay for Kellen’s education, while Kellen had quietly pocketed a significant amount of prize money from his academic competitions.
I knew asking him for money was a bad idea, but I was completely out of options.
Thirty-five grand. That was all I needed to borrow.
I swore to myself I’d pay him back every last cent as soon as I could.
It rang forever before Denise finally picked up.
She and Kellen were the geniuses; they’d both made it into the top university in the country.
Hearing her voice threw me.
I didn’t have the time or energy to care why she was answering his phone.
I just pleaded, “Can you put Kellen on? I really need to talk to him about something important.”
Denise gave a sharp, mean little laugh.
“Tell me what it is first.
“Otherwise, I’m not letting you bother Kel.”
I rushed through the explanation.
She listened, and when she didn’t shut me down, just giving a reluctant, “Fine,” relief washed over me.
But a second later, she shouted in a sickly-sweet voice, “Kellen, your girlfriend’s on the phone.
“She says she wants a designer bag and needs you to send her 35 grand!”