So, Your Boyfriend Cheated On You? Wooooooow. And Guess What’s Even Worse? He Cheated On You With Your

So, your boyfriend cheated on you? Wooooooow. And guess what’s even worse? He cheated on you with your best friend. WOOOOOOOW.

But you know what’s even worse than all of that? BEING A CELEBRITY AND HAVING EVERYONE KNOW YOUR BUSINESS.

So yeah, to say you were going through it? That would be the understatement of the century.

Gojo had been your boyfriend for nine months before you two had the break-up of the year. Twitter, Instagram—everywhere. And how did it all go down? Oh, you caught him with your best friend in your bed. YOUR bed. In YOUR house.

Like, this man couldn’t even cheat in his own place. The audacity.

You had just finished a livestream with your co-star Sukuna, where the two of you were promoting your new movie and talking all kinds of trash. You came home, and boom—you caught them right in the act.

Yeah. It was bad. Like, really bad.

Honestly, you didn’t even know how to react at first. It felt like time just stopped for a second. Gojo had the nerve—the absolute gall—to act like you were the one intruding. Like, hello? Is this not my house? Is this not my bed you’re... defiling?

Your best friend—oh, let’s not forget her—she had the audacity to look embarrassed, like she didn’t know what was happening. Girl, you knew exactly what was happening. I bet you even scheduled it.

You remember standing there, blinking, just... blinking.

After the fallout, things went completely south. It was like your entire life had turned upside down, and you were beyond exhausted. Publicly embarrassed, utterly humiliated—it felt like the world was watching you fall apart. But what made it worse? They made their relationship public not even a week after the breakup. It was like getting slapped in the face repeatedly with no chance to catch your breath.

Just... embarrassing.

But the hits kept coming. There was an awards show coming up, and back when things were good—when you and Gojo were still dating and that bitch was still your best friend—you had agreed to co-host the event with him. But now? Yeah, you backed out, obviously. You weren’t about to stand on stage next to him and pretend everything was fine. Oh, but guess who was replacing you?

Yep. Her.

Life wasn’t just kicking you while you were down, it was dropkicking you off a cliff.

The only person who had your back through all of this was Sukuna. And even he couldn’t stay out of trouble. They had run into each other at a fashion show—Gojo, smug as ever, probably thinking he’d gotten away with it—and Sukuna, being the unpredictable menace he is, didn’t even waste time with words. He left Gojo bloody and bruised right there, in front of everyone.

Sukuna didn’t care about the cameras or the gossip; he was defending you, and everyone knew it.

Of course, the media had a field day. “Sukuna vs. Gojo: The Fashion Week Brawl,” headlines screamed. But you? For the first time in weeks, you actually felt a little better. Sukuna had stood up for you when you couldn’t even stand up for yourself.

You remember sitting in your penthouse, scrolling through the millions of reactions online, and getting a text from Sukuna that just said, “Handled it.”

You laughed, for the first time in days.

When the night of the awards show finally came, you were this close to skipping it altogether. Why put yourself through the humiliation? You knew you were going to get flamed by the press, by fans, by everyone. Not out of jealousy—no, it wasn’t that. It was the betrayal. How could they do this to you? You would never, ever do something like that to them. And yet, here you were—hurt, broken, and betrayed, not just by your boyfriend but by your best friend too.

Why?

You had poured all of that out to Sukuna during yet another night of drowning your sorrows—high, drunk, and completely out of your mind. You didn’t expect him to care, let alone do anything about it. But Sukuna? He just looked at you, all casual, and said, “Get ready. I’m going with you.”

Wait, what?

Sukuna being your date? The idea was absurd, and in your state, you could hardly process it, but before you knew it, you were dressed up, and he was right there by your side, like it was no big deal.

When you hit the red carpet, though? Oh, it was a mess. Your eyes were so bloodshot from being high and drunk, and you couldn’t even walk properly without stumbling. The cameras were flashing like crazy, and you knew everyone was watching you fall apart in real-time.

Oh yeah, the media was having a field day with your misery. You could already imagine the headlines: “Y/N Falls from Grace,” “Celebrity Trainwreck,” “Sukuna Saves the Day?”

But Sukuna? He didn’t care. He held onto you, guiding you with surprising patience. His hand on your waist, steady and strong.

He didn’t leave your side once, not even for a second. And while you felt like your life was unraveling, Sukuna somehow made it feel like maybe you weren’t totally alone.

After stumbling through the red carpet and barely making it to your seat, you thought maybe—just maybe—you could survive the night unnoticed. Sukuna was with you, keeping you steady, and you figured that if you just laid low, the rest of the event would fly by. You’d go home, sleep it off, and deal with the inevitable media storm later.

But, of course, because the universe was apparently hell-bent on ruining your life, your name was called for an award.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

Your brain tried to catch up. Your heart dropped. Why do I have to be alive for this?

You’d been so caught up in the disaster of your breakup that the idea of winning an award hadn’t even crossed your mind. You were high, tipsy, and an emotional mess, and now they wanted you to get up on stage? In front of them?

Oh, and of course, just to make things worse, Gojo and that girl—your ex-best friend—were hosting. The last people you wanted to see, much less share a stage with.

You made eye contact with Gojo for a split second, and he smirked. That little smug, self-satisfied grin, like he was winning in some twisted game you didn’t even know you were playing. And her? Standing next to him, all smiles, pretending like she wasn’t a snake.

You were going to have to walk up there, past them, and make a speech. While drunk and high. Oh, this was going to be spectacularly bad.

Sukuna leaned over and grunted, “You got this. If you trip, I’ll catch you before you hit the ground.”

With a groan, you got up, Sukuna standing too, steadying you as you wobbled your way to the stage. The crowd was watching. Everyone was watching. You were stumbling, trying not to faceplant as you felt their eyes burning holes into you. You nearly tripped twice. But Sukuna? He stayed right there beside you, not caring about the stares or whispers, like your personal bodyguard from hell.

When you reached the stage, your heart was pounding, and not just because of the alcohol. You took the award with shaky hands and glanced at the microphone. Gojo and your former best friend were standing just a few feet away, and you could feel them watching, waiting for you to make a fool of yourself.

You blinked at the mic. Then you blinked at the crowd. The room was spinning a little. You had no idea what to say, but you had to say something. So you took a deep breath and started:

“Wow. Uh... wow, this is, like... crazy, right? So... um, first of all, thanks. Like, thanks for... all of this. The award. The love. It’s great, really great.”

You paused, blinking at the crowd, who were dead silent. You were pretty sure your words didn’t make sense. But whatever. You were already in too deep.

“Y’know,” you continued, “this whole thing—like, life?—it’s kinda like a Barbie movie. Like, I thought I was Barbie, but turns out I was... um... more like... not Barbie. Like, I thought Gojo was my Ken, but he’s more like, uh... I don’t know, one of the Kens no one cares about? And then, y’know, maybe I’m the Ken. Maybe we’re all just Kens. Or maybe... maybe none of us are.”

People in the audience were glancing at each other, clearly confused, but you pressed on.

“And Gojo—like, no, he didn’t cheat on me!” you blurted, pointing at him. “He’s just... he’s just really bad at... you know... not being the worst. And I thought we were gonna, like, do great things together. But you know who’s the real Ken? Sukuna. That’s right. He’s the best Ken. And Ken’s aren’t even real! But he’s real.”

You could hear people in the crowd starting to giggle. Some people were holding in their laughter, but it was spreading like wildfire.

“And you know what else?” you said, starting to dance a little. “Life’s too short to not... have fun. So here’s me, having fun!”

At that point, you started dancing. Yes, right there on stage. Awkward, goofy, completely out-of-rhythm dancing. The crowd started to laugh for real now. You were feeling it. You didn’t care anymore—at least you weren’t crying, and that was a win in your book.

Gojo looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, and your ex-best friend looked utterly mortified. But Sukuna? He was grinning, arms crossed, standing off to the side like he was enjoying every second of it.

After what felt like an eternity, you realized you still had the mic in your hand. Oh. Right. The speech. You stopped dancing and wobbled back to the microphone.

“So, yeah,” you said, voice slurring a little, “this award... it’s great. I love it. You all are great. Barbie is great. Life is... weird. And... I think that’s it? I don’t know. But thank you. I think.”

You put the mic down and blinked again, realizing that you had, indeed, just made a speech about Barbie, Ken, and your personal mess of a life in front of hundreds of celebrities and millions watching at home.

Before you could make another disastrous move, Sukuna was already stepping forward. Without saying a word, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. The crowd gasped, the cameras flashed, and there you were, being carted off stage by Sukuna, who was clearly done with the nonsense.

As he turned to leave, Sukuna made sure to bump his shoulder—hard—into Gojo’s as he passed, nearly knocking him over. Gojo shot him a glare, but Sukuna didn’t even look back. The crowd saw it, and a few cheers went up.

You, still slung over Sukuna’s shoulder, started laughing. Loudly.

“Thanks, Sukuna,” you mumbled, your face buried in his back, barely able to keep your eyes open. “I’m totally killing it tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted. “Let’s just get you out of here before you start talking about G.I. Joe next.”

And just like that, Sukuna carried you out of the awards show, leaving Gojo and the disaster behind as the cameras flashed and the crowd buzzed.

You’d made a complete fool of yourself, sure. But at least you weren’t alone.