Who was Teresa? What had her relationship with Matt actually been like? I grabbed my phone and searched her name online.
It took a little digging, but I found her on social media. Her profile picture showed her on a beach nearby, smiling, sun-kissed, glowing… and happy.
I hesitated, then typed out a message. “Hi Teresa. You don’t know me, but I think I just found your note at Matt’s place.”
She replied an hour later.
“Oh wow. I was wondering if someone would ever find it. Do you want to meet up?”
I didn’t even hesitate.
“Yes. Coffee tomorrow? At Black Coffee Beanz?”
Meeting Teresa was… surreal.
I expected bitterness and resentment. Instead, she was warm and empathetic. She didn’t gloat or didn’t say, “I told you so.”
“I’m just glad you got out,” she said, stirring her coffee.
“I know how hard it is.”
I exhaled slowly. “He made me feel crazy. Like I was overreacting.”
She nodded.
“That’s what he does. It’s not just about the cleaning — it’s how he rewrites reality. And makes you second-guess everything.”
“Did he…” I paused, gathering courage.
“Did he ever make you feel afraid?”
Teresa’s hand trembled slightly as she set down her cup. “The day I left, he threw a chair across the room. Not at me, but…” She met my eyes.
“It was close enough.”
I swallowed hard. Because yeah. That was exactly it.
When I mentioned my pets back in Matt’s apartment, she stiffened. “Rachel… he used to get destructive when he was angry.”
I didn’t hesitate. I called my landlord that minute.
The landlord was sympathetic — especially once Teresa said she was a lawyer and offered to come with me. He agreed to let me break the lease, though I’d have to pay for August. I didn’t mind.
I’d pay triple to be done with this and get Matt out of the way. The landlord told him the apartment needed to be empty for emergency maintenance all day. Matt texted back, “Whatever.
I’m at work till 6.”
At noon, I walked in and my stomach dropped. Shattered dishes lay scattered on the floor. He’d ripped my clothes.
And my pet rats’ cage was open. I rushed over, heart pounding. “Oh my God —”
But then, movement caught my eye.
Two tiny noses poked out from a shoebox. I was relieved. My beloved pets were safe.
I let out a breath so shaky I had to sit down. Teresa crouched beside me. “You okay?”
“He knew,” I whispered as I scooped up one of my little guys.
“He must have known I was planning to leave. This is a message.”
Teresa squeezed my shoulder. “This is exactly why we’re here now, getting you out.
You’re stronger than you know, Rachel.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s just get my stuff and go.”
As we were packing, Teresa smirked and said, “So, did you find my other notes?”
I blinked.
“Other notes?”
She grinned. “Oh yeah. One under the vacuum, one in the toaster.”
We checked.
The vacuum note was still there. But the toaster one was gone. I laughed.
“He cleaned the toaster but not the rest of the damn apartment!”
That night, I settled into my new place, my pets curled up beside me. Teresa and I toasted to new beginnings with lemonade and takeout. “You really saved me, you know,” I told her.
She raised her glass. “Nah. You saved yourself.”
And honestly, she was right.
Six months later, I sat in my sunlit apartment, watching my rats explore their new premium cage — a gift from Teresa, who had become an unexpected but cherished friend. The walls were clean, the floors spotless, and everything smelled of lavender and fresh air. My phone buzzed with a text from Matt: “I miss you.
I’ve changed. Please come back.”
I looked around at my peaceful home, thought about the strength I’d found, the boundaries I’d learned to set, and the friendship that had bloomed from the ashes of his manipulation. With steady hands, I typed back: “No.
But I hope you really have changed… for the next person’s sake.”
Then I blocked his number. Teresa’s words echoed in my mind: “Healing isn’t just about leaving.
It’s about staying gone and building something better.”
She was right about that too. I had built something better: a life where I didn’t have to shrink myself, where my voice was heard, and where my feelings mattered. Sometimes the best endings come from the courage to begin again.
Source: amomama
