There was something uniquely comforting about lying on the bed wrapped in a towel after a long shower. While Jude was already busy styling his hair, I took a moment to relax. As I picked up my phone, I finally found the courage to check my social media for the first time since everything had happened.
My eyes scanned the screen as I scrolled through the hundreds of comments left on my pages. As Jude had warned, there was a mix of hatred, jealousy, and appreciation. Some people still clung to the narrative that I wasn't a "girl's girl" for being with Laura's supposedly ex. The "You win them the same way you lose them" comments made me roll my eyes. But there were also sweet messages from people who thought I was pretty, complimented my body, and shipped me with the footballer. It was all a bit overwhelming—the notifications kept pouring in, and I didn't even dare open my direct messages.
I found myself scrolling through my followers, noticing the surprising number of verified symbols that had appeared. So many people were following me now, people I never imagined would even know I existed. Footballers like Camavinga, Vini Jr., Mbappé, Noah Ohio, Tchouaméni... even Dua Lipa and Aron Piper. I was dying. It was intimidating to think about how many people would now see my content every time I posted.
