Song Recommendations for this story:

“Agora Hills” — Doja Cat

“Truth Hurts” — Lizzo

“Shout Out to My Ex” — Little Mix

“Hit 'Em Up Style (Oops!)” — Blu Cantrell

“Boss Bitch” — Doja Cat

“I Want You Around” — Snoh Aalegra

“Her” — Megan Thee Stallion

“Pink + White” — Frank Ocean

“thank u, next” — Ariana Grande

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

Let’s be real. You should have known.

There were signs. The way Peter started holding his phone at an angle that made the screen impossible to see. The way he came home late, smelling faintly of someone else’s perfume and claiming it was from a crowd. The way his excuses had started to sound rehearsed, like lines from a bad movie he’d watched one too many times.

Maybe you ignored it because Peter Parker, your boyfriend of two years, the guy who tripped over his own feet on your first date and apologized for an hour, wouldn't actually do that. Wouldn't lie. Wouldn't cheat. He was supposed to be the good one. The hero.

Turns out heroes can be garbage too.

You found out on a Tuesday. Because of course it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were already the worst day of the week, and now you had concrete evidence. A text from Gwen Stacy to Peter that said, “Same time tomorrow?” with a heart emoji. And Peter’s reply: “Can’t wait.”

You’d borrowed his phone because yours was dead and you needed to look something up. Simple as that. You weren’t snooping. But then the notification came in, and his face went pale, and he started talking too fast, and the whole story unraveled in a messy, pathetic pile of half-truths and “it’s not what it looks like.”

It was exactly what it looked like.

He’d been seeing Gwen for months. Dates, texts, shared playlists, the whole works. He’d hidden it deliberately. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed when you confronted him. Just defensive. A little annoyed, even. Like you were the one inconveniencing him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he’d said. Which, honestly? Didn’t mean much when the “I didn’t mean to” had been going on for months.

So you did the only thing you could do. You walked out.

The apartment felt smaller on the way out. Quieter. The walls had soaked up years of memories, and now they were just… there. Watching you leave. You didn’t cry in front of him, though. You waited until you got home, shut your bedroom door, and let yourself fall apart for exactly five minutes.

Five minutes. That was all you gave yourself. Then you sat up, wiped your face, and unlocked your phone.

Your contacts list glowed in the dark of your room. You scrolled past Peter’s name, past your mom, past the group chat that was already blowing up because apparently someone had seen Peter and Gwen together and had Opinions.

You stopped at a name you never thought you’d actually call.

Tony Stark.

You’d met him once at a Stark Industries event. Peter had been so excited to introduce you. And now? Now the thought of calling him felt like a door opening in a dark room.

You hit dial.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then, a click.