“Aren’t you virtuous? Aren’t you always so composed? Then go ahead and do it.”
He chuckled. “You’d better put in some effort. If Liz isn’t satisfied, I have plenty of ways to keep your father on the trending searches every single day.”
Before I could respond, he hung up—humming a little tune as if he hadn’t just shattered my world.
I knew Christopher would follow through on his threats.
With trembling hands, I pushed open the door and walked into the living room.
The first thing I saw was the enormous wedding photo of Christopher and me hanging on the wall.
A bitter smile curled my lips.
There was no trace of a smile on Christopher’s face in the photo.
He had stood stiffly, maintaining his distance.
I had worked so hard just to rest my head on his shoulder, just to close that small space between us.
Eight years had passed.
That distance never disappeared.
I could only imagine how happy he must be while taking wedding photos with Lisa.
Forcing myself to move, I reached for the frames, one by one and took them down.
Then, with a steady hand, I tore them into pieces.
Every single memory.
I burned them in the yard, watching as they turned to ash.