Because of the show's requirements, I wore a thin evening dress.
I couldn't help but think of the jacket draped over Hannah's shoulders earlier.
I never thought this wind could give me the courage to give up. With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and called my best friend.
"Bring me all the journals about Simon. I've decided to forget him."
"Really?"
My best friend, Wendy Yaleman, sounded thrilled on the other end of the call.
She had always advised me to get a divorce.
She said, "The moment you're unhappy, it's a sign this marriage has failed. He hasn't made your relationship public after all these years—does that even count as love?"
Back then, I knew deep down that Simon's actions were disrespectful.
But how did I defend him?
I told myself he was busy and his career came first, but reality slapped me.
In a survival reality show, he worked seamlessly with Hannah, calling her "my cutie pie" every chance he got.
Rumors about them were flying everywhere.
Wendy was right. I was not only a fool but also blind.
But I couldn't keep pretending when the truth stared me in the face. I was genuinely exhausted.
I nodded firmly. "Wendy, I appreciate it. But I want to burn those journals myself."