Inside, I was greeted by an entire wall of memories—photos of me and Bryson, smiling together, locked in moments of intimacy…
Things he had personally made for me…
An entire wall covered in handbags and jewelry he had chosen for me…
Three thousand love letters, each penned by him!
But now, everything before my eyes mocked me, each piece of evidence sneering at my foolishness.
I couldn’t bear it any longer. With trembling hands, I tore our wedding photo from the wall and hurled it down, shattering it into pieces.
That night, Bryson did not come back.
Instead, Debbii bombarded me with countless videos of them together, flaunting their affection.
Even from outside the villa, their voices carried—sweet, intimate, unrestrained.
I clicked through each video, one by one, my hands shaking as I forced myself to watch. And then, piece by piece, I burned every trace of what I once thought was love.
Three thousand letters, three thousand photos, countless handmade gifts—it all took me the entire night to reduce it all to ashes.
Bryson only sent me one message.
[Debbii isn’t feeling well because of you. I won’t be coming back tonight. Think of it as me helping you make up for her.]