Motivational speakers tell us that heartbreaks either make you or destroy you. Well, there are breakups, and then there’s what Stacy made me go through. At just 21, it turned me into a full-blown digital hunter, by force. The day she left me, she didn’t just take her toothbrush, earrings, and her multiple meme supply. No. She also took the Wi-Fi password and the house flowers which she accused me of being too emotionally unavailable to water.

I found myself jobless, Wi-Fi-less, and dangerously close to depression, over-watching cached TikToks on 2% battery. But as fate would have it, rock bottom has good signal. So, I took my neighbor’s open Wi-Fi as a sign from God and typed the one thing that would change my life forever: “how to make money online fast.” I had read many blogs and articles about this, but none had made sense to me earlier. I guess my mind was clouded by “love”, to the extent that I couldn’t understand some reality. But this time, it hit differently.

At first, it was nonsense. Forex bros with shiny watches they don’t own, whispering in rented Lamborghinis about generational wealth. Painfully to say, their success intimidated me so much. But I would later learn that none of them was who they said they were. They were only content creators. But then I stumbled onto a video. A guy who looked like he hadn’t slept since the pandemic started, claiming he made $100 on Fiverr in one day. No screaming, no Rolex, just facts. That was my guy.

I hadn’t touched Fiverr in years — my last login was during the Obama administration. But heartbreak makes you bold. I created a profile and listed a gig titled: “I will write your breakup letter with deep emotional accuracy and a hint of justified pettiness.” I was joking… but Fiverr was not.

Less than three hours in, I got an order from a woman in Canada who wanted to break up with her boyfriend in a “polite but unforgettable way.” I wrote the letter like Shakespeare met Shonda Rhimes in a therapy session. She loved it. She left a $20 tip. I stared at the screen for five minutes like Moses just parted my M-PESA balance.

Flush with confidence and 35 dollars richer, I opened Canva and started designing heartbreak-themed Instagram templates. Yes, I turned emotional trauma into pastel-colored quotes. One read, “If he left, let him. You can’t beg someone to recognize gold when they’re chasing glitter.”

I uploaded the templates to Gumroad, priced them at $5, and posted the link in a heartbreak support group on Facebook. By 4:00 p.m., I had eight purchases. That was $40 more. At this point, I was officially a sad digital entrepreneur.

But it gets better. I remembered I had signed up for an affiliate program months ago. I logged in, grabbed my links for a breakup healing e-book and a self-improvement planner, and wrote a quick blog post titled “Ten Ways to Monetize Your Breakup (Because Tears Don’t Pay Rent).” I shared the link on Reddit, Facebook, and my WhatsApp status — the same status where I used to post gym selfies to make Stacy jealous.

Before midnight, three people had bought the course, and one bought the planner. I earned $25 in affiliate commissions. I stared at the screen in disbelief. I had done it. In one painfully funny, emotionally unstable day, I had made $100 online.

Then came the plot twist. Around 12:07 a.m., Stacy texted me. “Hey… random question… did you write that breakup letter for me? It’s going viral.” I smiled. I replied: “No. But thanks for the router. I made $100 today with it.”

She left me on read.

But I didn’t care. For the first time in months, I didn’t feel broke or broken. I felt capable. All it took was a broken heart, borrowed Wi-Fi, and a little sarcasm disguised as hustle.