These past few days, Tucker hadn’t even noticed the closet was emptier, the books were gone, even my usual cup was missing.
Maybe his mind had never really been here.
Fine then. These ten years—I’d take them as my own one-sided devotion.
Standing in the elevator, I gently wiped away the last trace of moisture.
When I looked up again, my eyes were calm.
As the plane took off, the city shrank into a blur of lights beneath the window.
I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes.
From this moment on, Tucker and I had nothing to do with each other anymore.
Elsewhere, the instant his slap landed, Tucker regretted it.
But Kelsey was still trembling in his arms, crying so hard she could barely breathe, so he could only take her home first.
The whole drive, his grip on the steering wheel tightened again and again, his chest heavy and tight.
After settling Kelsey in, he didn’t even take a sip of water before heading back downstairs.
When he got into the car, he suddenly realized his hands were empty.
He frowned, hesitated for a few seconds, then turned the car around and drove to the cake shop I used to mention all the time.
The shop was crowded. Standing in line, he looked out of place, but he waited patiently anyway.
When he finally got the cake and was about to head back to find me, his phone buzzed.
The screen lit up.
A system notification,
[Good day, Mr. Afton. Your divorce from Ms. Severin was finalized today.]
With a soft thud, the strawberry cake hit the ground.
