I ignored them, got into the car, and pulled out my phone. I started editing the divorce agreement.
When I got home, I began burning everything Caroline had given me over the past five years. Every letter, every trinket, every trace of what we once had.
When the final flame flickered out, I heard a knock on the door—the courier had arrived.
The sender was Caroline.
The recipient was Karl.
I signed for it anyway.
Curious, I opened the package.
Inside were premium maternity and baby products from all the top brands.
Then came her message, almost too quickly.
“Victor, I accidentally had a courier sent to the wrong address. It’s just office stuff. Please don’t open it. I’ll take it to the bureau when I’m back.”
I replied with a simple emoji.
Then resealed the box.
I had already made up my mind to leave.
Her lies weren’t even worth the effort of exposing anymore.
That night, she didn’t come home—said she was busy with a case.
Karl posted a status update for the first time in forever.
It was tagged at a luxury hotel in the city.
The photo was blurry but unmistakable. A woman in uniform, her shoulder epaulettes clearly visible.
Her wedding ring was gone, but the tan line it left behind lingered.