I froze in the hallway outside Joshua’s study, my heart hammering against my ribs. His voice carried from inside, too casual, too confident.
“I’m serious, Jo… what if she comes back and catches us?”
Vanessa’s voice—sweet, teasing—sent a chill down my spine.
“She won’t,” Joshua replied. “I texted her earlier. She’s probably out doing her usual errands. And even if she walks in—what does it matter? You’re my wife. She only thinks she is.”
Their laughter cut through me like glass, a cruel echo of everything I thought I knew.
I stumbled backward, gripping the edge of the wall. My mind raced, desperate for something solid. And then I remembered the papers I had seen that morning, the ones I had thought were innocuous in his study.
I returned to the room cautiously, lifting the last crumpled sheet from the floor. My breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t a contract, wasn’t a ledger. It was our marriage certificate.
Hands trembling, I smoothed it out. Surely, this had to be some mistake. Perhaps he’d requested a duplicate? But the edges were frayed, worn like it had been kept around just long enough to deceive me. My stomach twisted. Something precious… discarded.
I forced a small, shaky smile at the thought that maybe I could turn it into a gesture—a framed anniversary gift, something sweet to mark our three years. But that hope dissolved quickly.
Later that afternoon, at the civil registry, the truth hit me like a freight train.
“Ma’am… there doesn’t seem to be any record of a marriage under those names,” the clerk said, typing slowly, her brow furrowed.
I pressed, voice quivering. “Please, check again. Joshua Whitman and Adriana Cortez. Married three years ago.”
Twice she searched. Twice she shook her head.
“This document,” she finally said, her words slicing through me, “isn’t genuine. It looks like a forgery. Mr. Whitman has been legally married for four years—to a woman named Vanessa Morgan.”
Vanessa. My cousin. My childhood friend. My trusted confidante. The woman who had always been like a sister to me… and now, the woman Joshua had chosen over me.
I remembered everything—the shy transfer student meeting the confident boy in sophomore Literature class, the stolen glances, the notes tucked in lockers, the small gifts, the whispered promises. The way he had waited for me while I studied abroad, the letters, the calls, the airport reunion with white peonies, my tears, our vows. All of it… a lie.
My phone vibrated sharply, dragging me back from the spiral of disbelief.
Joshua: Hey… just checking in. You’re not still out, are you? Can’t wait to see you. I miss you.
I didn’t answer.
At home, I paused outside his office again, listening to their voices. My stomach sank lower than it had in years. Vanessa’s laughter, his reassurance to her, the casual cruelty—they didn’t even see me. The certificate tossed, my belief shattered.
Shaking, I dialed my mother’s number, voice steady despite the tears I could not stop.
“Mom,” I whispered. “About that marriage arrangement you mentioned with your business partner…”
I drew in a shaky breath, letting the sobs threaten but not break me.
“I’m ready. Go ahead and set it up.”
“I’m ready. Make the arrangements.”
A sharp intake of breath echoed from the other end of the line. “Adriana!” My mother’s voice trembled. “What… what are you saying? Didn’t you refuse that proposal because you claimed you were so devoted to Joshua? You told me he was your forever! How could things turn out like this? Are you… divorcing him?”
I closed my eyes, gripping the phone tightly to steady my trembling voice.
“No, Mom,” I murmured. “We were never married in the first place.”
There was a stunned silence, broken only by her shaky inhale.
“Wait… what?” she whispered, barely audible.
I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “He tricked me. Every single thing was a lie. I believed I was his wife. I believed in our forever. But it was all an illusion, Mom. Just a carefully planned deception. I can’t stay here any longer. I have to leave. I need to forget everything, start over… build a new life for myself.”
The pause on her end felt endless, as though she were sifting through my confession piece by piece.
Finally, her voice returned, calm but resolute. “Alright. Don’t worry, darling. I’ll handle everything. Just focus on keeping steady. Give me a week. Seven days. By then, everything will be arranged. New records, a new address, a fresh start. No trace of what you’re leaving behind. When the week is done, you’ll be free.”
A strange mix of grief and relief curled in my chest. One week. Only seven more days to pretend I was someone else. I swallowed and nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “That’s fine,” I whispered.
That evening, my phone buzzed with a message from Joshua.
Babe, don’t forget Parker’s birthday tonight. I told them we’d come together. I’ll be waiting. Love you.
I stared at it for a long moment, feeling a hollow twist in my chest. Then I typed a brief response:
Sorry, still finishing some designs. I’ll come later.
Almost instantly, his reply popped up: No worries. Just let me know when you’re on your way. I’ll be there.
I drew a steadying breath, willing myself to focus. One week. Just one more week, Adriana. You can survive this.
I dressed plainly, applied subtle makeup, and drove to the venue. The air was unnervingly cold, almost as if it sensed the turmoil inside me.
As I neared the garden entrance, laughter drifted toward me. Male voices—familiar, easy, cruel in their normalcy. I paused.
“…Wait, you actually brought two girls to my party?” one of Joshua’s friends joked. “What’s the strategy here?”
Joshua’s smooth, confident voice followed, light but laced with arrogance. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I did love Adriana, truly. But she left me to chase her dreams. I was alone. Vanessa was there. And… we… got married.”
My stomach lurched.
He continued, casually recounting the betrayal. “When Adriana returned, everyone assumed we’d be the golden couple again. So I faked it. I didn’t divorce Vanessa. Why would I? Adriana’s family has wealth. She’s… useful.”
The others laughed, oblivious.
“One man, two wives,” one friend joked. “You’re living the dream, Jo.”
“Exactly,” Joshua replied with a smirk. “I enjoyed it. Why settle for one when you can have both? Adriana might need to be disposed of soon, though—once I secure her inheritance.”
I hadn’t realized I was gripping my clutch until my nails cut into my palm. I straightened my spine, wiped a single defiant tear away, and walked into the main hall.
Warm lights, laughter, clinking glasses… and there she was. Vanessa, poised, elegant, champagne in hand, as if she had always belonged.
“Oh, Adriana,” she cooed when our eyes met. “You actually came. I thought you’d stay away.”
“I’m fashionably late,” I replied, my voice icy. “And you—what are you doing here?”
She tilted her head, wide-eyed and sweet, a practiced innocence in her smile. “Joshua invited me. I’m here with him.”
I clenched my jaw. “The real wife is here now. Maybe it’s time you left.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Always the dramatic one, Cass. Come on… we can share him, right? Isn’t that the idea?”
Her brazen humor, once easy to dismiss, now felt like venom.
Then Joshua appeared, draping an arm possessively over her shoulders. Vanessa feigned discomfort. “She’s upset. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. She probably thinks I’m trying to take your place as his wife.”
Joshua turned to me, incredulous. “Adriana, seriously? Making a scene over Vanessa? She’s your friend. I thought we moved past this. You were always the one who wanted her around before.”
I met his gaze, calm and unyielding. “I’m here, Joshua. Why do you still need her?”
He blinked, caught off guard. My voice—steady, resolute—was not the quiet, forgiving tone he had always known.
“I just… I wanted both of you there,” he stammered, confusion in his voice. “It’s nothing more. Enjoy the night. Be civil.”
I looked at Vanessa. Then at Joshua. I realized nothing I said would alter their game. So I straightened, voice firm: “I’m done. I’m going home.”
And I left.
Joshua started to follow, but Vanessa suddenly groaned, clutching her stomach. “I… I think I need to go to the hospital.”
Of course.
Later that night, back in my apartment, I stared at my phone. A message lit the screen:
Sorry about tonight. Vanessa wasn’t feeling well. Had to take her in. Let’s talk tomorrow? I love you. I’ll make it up to you.
I didn’t reply. I let the silence linger.
Slowly, deliberately, I slid my ring off my finger. And tossed it into the trash.
That night, Joshua didn’t return home, despite the promises he had made. I waited, the hours stretching endlessly, until darkness swallowed the house and silence wrapped itself around me like a suffocating blanket. I told myself not to care, repeated it like a mantra. Yet, my fingers kept scrolling through my phone, craving some kind of message. Anything. A note, a lie, a false comfort—something to hold onto.
Instead, the notifications were from Vanessa.
“Hey, sis. Lucky you, huh? He’s been looking after me all night. Can you believe how sweet he is?”
A photo followed—Joshua spoon-feeding her soup in a stark, white hospital room.
“He said he’d stay just to make sure I’m alright. Hope that’s okay with you!”
I didn’t respond.
Another ping.
“Oops, wrong send!”
Then more pictures. Her in his arms, his hand cupping her cheek, her expression smug and triumphant.
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t subtle anymore. She wasn’t even pretending—she was provoking me, testing the limits of my patience, seeing how far she could push me before I cracked.
I didn’t give her the satisfaction. I locked my phone and turned away, retreating to the coldest corner of the bed, forcing sleep that refused to come.
Morning arrived with its cruel persistence. I woke to the sensation of lips brushing my cheek, warm and intimate.
“Morning, baby,” Joshua murmured.
I jerked away instinctively. “What are you doing here?”
He frowned, confusion knitting his brows. “What do you mean? I’m here for you. You didn’t reply to my messages last night.”
“You were with Vanessa,” I said softly. “She made sure I knew.”
He sighed, rubbing at his temples as if the weight of the world rested there. “Are you jealous now? Come on, babe. She’s unwell. You told me to look after her—you called her your best friend.”
He continued, his voice smooth and persuasive. “I helped her because… she was there when you were gone. She listened when I missed you. She reminded me of you. This… this is just me returning the favor. The right thing to do.”
My chest tightened. The words, wrapped in careful reasoning, felt like knives. Betrayal masked as nobility, cruelty dressed as kindness.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “I told you to take care of her… when I trusted her, when I believed she was loyal.” I swallowed, fighting to steady my voice. “But I’m here now, Joshua. I’ve returned. So stop.”
He tilted his head, incredulous. “You’re overreacting. This isn’t like you. Jealous over a sick friend?”
Friend.
I barely had time to respond before footsteps echoed from the hallway. Vanessa’s voice floated in, thick with feigned guilt. “She… she hates me. I didn’t mean to come between you two. I should leave—”
“No,” Joshua cut her off, gripping her arm. “You’re staying.”
I blinked, disbelief pinching at me.
He faced me. “She has stomach issues. She needs support. She’ll stay here until she’s better.”
I could barely breathe. “You’re letting her stay?”
“She’ll need someone to cook for her too,” he added casually, brushing past me like it was ordinary. “Start preparing something light.”
“I don’t want to,” I said flatly.
“That wasn’t a question,” he snapped. “It’s an order.”
Then, as if dismissing my presence entirely, he turned away. “Don’t be so dramatic. You told me to be there for her.”
And just like that, they left me alone in the hallway.
Half an hour later, I forced myself into the kitchen. Each step was deliberate, each breath heavy as I tried to function, to move, to cook. The aroma of simmering broth mocked the hollow ache in my chest.
Vanessa appeared, entering as if she owned the space. “Let me help,” she cooed, sweet and insistent.
“I’ve got it,” I said firmly.
“Oh, come on,” she insisted, reaching for the ladle. “I can’t just sit around. Let me do something. Can’t let you have all of Joshua’s attention.”
I moved to stop her, but she was already stirring the pot, moving with reckless speed. Her elbow hit the plate rack.
A crash. Porcelain shattered, shards scattering across the floor. One piece bounced and cut into my leg.
“Ugh! My arm!” Vanessa gasped, clutching her wrist dramatically.
Joshua appeared instantly. “What happened?!”
“She… she didn’t let me help, and I tried! The plate fell!” Vanessa whimpered.
“She didn’t even let me cook—” I started, defensive.
But Joshua was already glaring. “I told you to handle this! Not let her touch it. She’s not fully recovered! Look at what you’ve done!”
He shoved past me, wrapping his arms protectively around Vanessa.
Blood dripped down my shin, the sting of the cut mingling with the ache of being replaced.
“You’ve disappointed me, Joshua,” I whispered, voice trembling.
I walked out, ignoring the pain, ignoring their shocked expressions, and locked myself in the guest bathroom to clean the wound—alone.
Later that night, he entered, bouquet of tulips in one hand, a small pink shopping bag in the other. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to yell earlier. I was startled. I… I worried about Vanessa. And you.”
I didn’t look up.
He placed the flowers beside me. “I got you a dress. The one you saw in the mannequin window last week. And this,” he said, lifting a small velvet box, “a matching bracelet.”
He reached for my hand, pressing his lips to it—brief, tentative.
“Where’s your ring?” His voice sharpened suddenly.
I met his gaze evenly. “I threw it away.”
He flinched as if struck.
“It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”
“Why would you do that, sweetheart?” Joshua’s voice was low, trembling between disbelief and irritation as his gaze fixed on my empty finger. “That ring was supposed to be our wedding bond.”
A bitter smile threatened to break across my face. Our wedding ring? The same one from a ceremony built on lies? From a marriage that existed only on paper—on a certificate that was nothing more than ink and deceit?
“I don’t want it anymore,” I replied quietly, my voice stripped of emotion.
He blinked, the initial shock gone in seconds, replaced by that easy charm he always wore like armor. “That’s it? You should’ve said so earlier.” His tone softened. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll get you a new one soon—something even more beautiful. Maybe at the next auction. You deserve the best.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek, the gesture so casual it made me sick. “Why don’t you go change, hmm? Let’s have a little date. Just us. No one else this time.”
And with that, he walked out of the room, humming an upbeat tune as though nothing had happened.
I was about to grab a dress from the closet when I froze in the hallway. Through the slightly open door of the next room, I heard his voice—low, confident, familiar.
“She believed me,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I told her she threw away the ring, but I kissed her and promised to buy another one. She won’t suspect a thing. Keep acting frail. Once my father and her family finalize the business handover, she’ll be out of the picture.”
Then came Vanessa’s voice, feathery and sly. “And you’re sure she’ll just… walk away?”
“She’s breaking already,” he replied with a laugh. “Give her a little more time and she’ll crumble. Maybe she’ll leave on her own—or fall apart. Doesn’t matter. You’re the one I want now.”
My heart thudded painfully, but I forced myself to keep walking. No sound. No tears. Not yet.
Tonight, I would act my part perfectly. Because tonight was supposed to be our third anniversary—at least, according to the lies he’d told me.
I wore a pale cream dress and the bracelet he’d given me the night before. My reflection in the mirror was calm, distant. I had mastered that look—the kind that hid storms behind stillness. Smiling without feeling. Loving without warmth. Pretending without breaking.
Joshua took me to a high-end restaurant overlooking the city. Everything sparkled—the crystal glasses, the soft golden lights, the view that made every couple around us look enchanted. He was back to his charming self, the version of him I once thought was real.
“Do you remember our first dinner here?” he asked with a nostalgic grin. “You had on that light blue dress. I couldn’t look away from you.”
I did remember.
Back then, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking from nerves. He’d pulled out my chair, ordered my favorite dish before I could speak, even remembered how I liked my wine. He brought tulips that night—my favorite flower, which I’d only mentioned once in passing.
I used to think those little things meant love. Meant forever.
He reached for my hand now, eyes glimmering under the candlelight. “To us,” he said, lifting his glass. “Three years of love and everything that comes with it.”
I smiled faintly, forcing my hand not to tremble as our glasses touched.
Three years of illusion.
He slid a velvet box across the table. “This should replace the ring you threw away,” he said with that disarming smile.
Inside lay a diamond band so bright it hurt to look at. I slipped it on and nodded, pretending to be moved. Pretending I hadn’t already heard him plotting with her.
But my mind kept drifting—to our old days. To the teenage promises, the prom night dances, the bracelets with our initials carved in cheap metal. The doodles in our notebooks. The love poems written in class margins. People used to call us the couple that never broke, the one everyone envied. I thought if love had a shape, it was him.
I was so wrong.
Now, when I looked into his eyes, all I could see was betrayal—the way his lips had touched Vanessa’s, the way he mocked our fake marriage behind my back.
“I missed you,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over my skin. “I don’t ever want to lose this.”
Neither did I, once. But whatever this was, it had died long ago.
I nodded, leaning forward like I used to. But the warmth was gone. All that remained was the quiet emptiness of someone who’d finally stopped believing.
The night continued with laughter that didn’t reach our eyes and toasts that meant nothing.
Then his phone rang.
He frowned, excused himself, and stepped outside to answer. Through the glass window, I watched his expression change from irritation to panic—then, without warning, he bolted for the exit.
I followed him out. “Joshua! What happened?”
He didn’t even glance at me. “Vanessa… she fell down the stairs,” he muttered before jumping into the car and speeding away.
No goodbye. No concern. Just gone.
I stood on the curb, clutching the ring box, the city lights blurring around me. The air stung my skin, but I didn’t cry. Not this time.
I hailed a taxi and told the driver to just drive. Anywhere. I didn’t care.
But halfway down a dim street, the car slowed.
“Is there a problem?” I asked, glancing up.
Before the driver could answer, two men appeared from the shadows. The back door yanked open.
“Hand over your bag!” one barked, grabbing my arm.
I screamed, trying to fight, but another man was already ripping my purse away. Something cold and metallic glinted under the streetlight.
Then pain.
Sharp. Deep. Fire searing through my side.
They ran, my things in hand, leaving me gasping, half-doubled over. My phone slipped from my lap but didn’t fall out of the cab—it landed beside my leg.
With shaking fingers, I grabbed it and dialed the only number my mind knew by heart.
“Joshua…” My voice was a rasp. “I—I’ve been attacked. I’m bleeding. Please… help me.”
His voice came through, distracted, distant. “What? Now? I’m kind of busy.”
My heart stopped. “I’m serious… I need you—please—”
There was a pause. A sigh. Then his tone turned cold.
“Can’t you call someone else? Vanessa just got hurt. She needs me more right now.”
I froze.
And then, faintly, in the background—I heard her laugh. Vanessa.
Joshua’s voice hardened. “Not everything’s about you, Adriana. Don’t start this drama. Not tonight.”
Something inside me cracked. “I’m not—”
But he hung up.
The phone slipped from my hand, hitting the pavement with a dull thud.
My vision blurred, my limbs heavy, the world tilting sideways.
The pain grew hotter, sharper, until everything faded into black.
The antiseptic smell hit me first, sharp and clinical, before the pain did.
My eyelids lifted slowly, heavy and reluctant, each blink blurring the harsh lights overhead. The room was painfully white, walls glaringly sterile, and the ceiling lights stabbed at my vision.
My body screamed as I tried to shift in the bed. A sudden, burning ache flared across my abdomen, sharp and relentless. I inhaled a shaky breath, sinking back into the pillows, heart racing.
A soft, cautious voice cut through the silence.
“You’re awake,” the nurse said, gentle but clearly concerned. Her eyes were warm, tinged with worry. “Please, don’t move too much. You’ve been through a lot.”
I swallowed against the dryness that had taken over my throat. “Wh-what… what happened?” I croaked, barely able to form the words.
“You were stabbed in the stomach,” she explained softly. “It was serious. But we managed to stop the bleeding and close the wound.” Her voice faltered slightly. “There’s something else you need to know.”
Confusion tightened my chest. “What… what is it?”
The nurse hesitated, biting her lip. “During surgery, we discovered… you were pregnant.” She gave me a moment to process it, letting the words hang in the sterile air. “I’m so sorry. With the trauma from your injury… we couldn’t save the baby.”
Pregnant. A baby. My mind went blank, roaring with disbelief. I hadn’t known. I hadn’t even suspected. A strange stillness settled in my chest, hollow and suffocating, like the silence that follows a scream no one hears.
The nurse reached for my hand, gentle. “Do you want me to call your family?”
I didn’t answer. My trembling fingers found my phone instead. I dialed Joshua’s number, praying, hoping. One ring. Two. And then someone picked up.
Not him.
It was Vanessa.
“Well, well,” she purred, mockery dripping from every word. “And what do we have here?”
My breath caught. “Where… where’s Joshua?”
Her laughter was ice. “Still calling him like he belongs to you? Sweetheart, when are you going to stop playing at something that’s never yours?”
I froze.
“He’s with me,” she continued, soft and sharp at the same time. “Always. Even when you’re hurt, even when you’re bleeding, he runs straight to me. You know that, right? So why pretend you matter?”
“Vanessa—” I started, but she cut me off.
“No. Listen. He’s mine. He always comes back to me. So maybe it’s time you do what everyone else expects… and leave.”
The air seemed to collapse around me. I couldn’t breathe.
Her voice dropped to a sickly sweet whisper. “Oh, and by the way… you’re not his wife.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, her words echoing in the antiseptic silence. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t cry. There were no tears. Just a hollow emptiness, stretching endlessly.
Then my phone buzzed. I reached for it with shaking hands. A message from my mother glowed on the screen: Everything’s ready. I’ll pick you up whenever you’re ready.
I stared at the words. This was it. I pressed the nurse call button. “I want to discharge myself. Now.”
“But—”
“I’m stable. I’ll sign everything. Please.”
Reluctantly, they handed me the forms. I changed into a simple outfit, covering the bandages over my stitches. Each movement was slow, careful, a reminder of the pain I had survived.
And that’s when I saw them.
Joshua and Vanessa. Just outside the OB-GYN wing. Their backs were turned, but I didn’t need to see their faces. I knew.
Vanessa’s voice carried across the corridor. “Are you sure you should be with me? She’s been robbed and stabbed…”
“I know,” Joshua sighed. “She’ll be fine. I’ll check on her later. For now, this is about us. We’re husband and wife. We should hear what the doctor says about our baby together.”
My breath caught. The last thread of delusion snapped. In that moment, I didn’t exist. Not to him. Not as his wife. Not as the woman who had believed in their fairy tale.
I turned, refusing to let them see me shatter. I walked out of the hospital like a ghost, every step faster, sharper, burning through the numbness.
I didn’t remember the drive home. All I knew was that the second I crossed the threshold of the house, something inside me broke completely.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just moved. Numb. Calculated.
I pulled suitcase after suitcase, emptied drawers, snatched up every shirt of his I had once folded with care. Jackets, shoes, cologne—everything went into trash bags. Gone.
The framed photo of our wedding met the corner of the table. Glass shards cut my fingers, but I didn’t care. It felt right.
Then came the dress. My wedding dress. Every lie it symbolized, every stolen promise—I dragged it into the backyard, dumped it in the firepit, poured lighter fluid over the silk. Flames devoured it hungrily, twisting the fabric as though it had been waiting for this moment.
I threw in the letters, dried tulips, love notes I’d tucked away for years. Flames consumed everything, rising like justice long overdue.
And then Joshua arrived.
His car door slammed. Footsteps crunched over the gravel.
“Adriana? What the hell are you doing?”
I didn’t flinch. “Decluttering.”
He looked at the blaze, unease flickering in his eyes. “You’re burning my things.”
“I’m making space. I’ll donate what’s left,” I said evenly. “Old memories. Nothing more.”
He hesitated, then shrugged, dismissive as usual. “Right. Fine. By the way… Vanessa wants something sweet. Grab some fruits, will you?”
I turned slowly. “Why me?”
“You’re good at it, babe. Come on.”
My jaw tightened. “Really? Not even a word about how I almost died? Not even a question?”
He scoffed. “But you’re okay. Standing, breathing. Nothing happened. You’ll heal.”
I glared at him, silent, cold.
He continued, casually. “With Vanessa… she’s sensitive. Everything has to be perfect. So just do it. No questions.”
He went inside, leaving me in the yard. Her giggling, his soft murmurs—kissing, murmuring—a new life being built without me.
I looked down. Blood had soaked through my shirt. Bandages failing. But he hadn’t noticed. He didn’t care. He didn’t even know our baby was gone.
And now… I had lost everything.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t break. I wiped my hands and followed his instructions outwardly. Grocery store. Apples. Strawberries. Cooked dinner. Set it neatly. Like a maid serving her masters.
But inside, I had a plan. Something in the meal for them to fear. If I had suffered from a life I never knew existed, so would they.
I left while they laughed and kissed. They didn’t notice me.
I was at the airport, checking in, when my phone erupted in notifications. Calls, messages—Joshua.
What did you put in the food?? Vanessa is vomiting!! She’s sick!! Where are you?! Come back!!
I typed slowly, coldly: I lost our baby today. From the stabbing. But I guess you don’t care. I’m not your legal wife, right? Goodbye, Joshua. Never contact me again.
I attached the photo—the real marriage certificate. His and Vanessa’s.
Then I blocked his number, removed my SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it in the nearest trash bin.
The plane began boarding.
And for the first time in years, I breathed freely. No weight of his name. No shadow of his lies. Just me.
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