The living room’s background wall displayed our photos—memories from the early days of our love, to our wedding, and our annual anniversary pictures.
Every year, we took a new photo together. Every year, except this one.
Our story had reached its end. It was time to part ways.
I sighed quietly, cut my image out of the group photos, and began packing my belongings.
I threw away my share of all the couple’s items scattered throughout the house.
Then, I signed the divorce agreement I’d had my lawyer prepare, placing it in a box alongside the abortion surgery report, and left it on the bedside table.
For good measure, I scheduled the screenshots of Christy’s social media posts and messages to be sent to Patrick’s email.
I had just sat down to rest when a new message from Christy popped up.
It included the time and location of the auction, along with a taunting line, “Do you dare to show up, old lady? Uncle said he’ll light a sky lantern for love tonight!”
That evening, I arrived at the auction right on time.
I hadn’t planned to go—the flight to New Zealand was scheduled for tonight.
I was about to leave everything behind. Why should I let a child’s petty provocation bother me?