With that, I turned and walked away without hesitation.
Adriana stared after me, a flicker of unease flashing across her face. She opened her mouth to call out to me—but Khalil tugged on her arm.
“Adriana... the slop splashed on me. I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Will you take me to the hospital?”
She hesitated for two seconds. Then she stayed with him.
Back at home, I gathered everything Adriana had ever given me over the years—every gift, every letter, every memory.
I tossed it all into a metal burner.
Just as I pulled out our marriage certificate, my phone buzzed with a message.
I glanced at it and saw Khalil's name popped up.
[Allen, I pretended to have an allergic reaction—and Adriana panicked. She called the top dermatologists from all over the country to rush in and treat me.]
[Even if they weren’t local, she insisted on flying them in by helicopter. Aren’t you jealous?]
I didn’t reply.
I watched our marriage certificate curl and blacken in the flames—reduced to ashes.
I wasn’t worried Adriana would see. Because I knew—she wasn’t coming home tonight.
Sure enough, her call came later that evening.