Just before I turned my phone off, a Facebook message popped up: “Aubrey, no matter where you hide, I will find you. Just wait.”
Then, my phone erupted with dozens of text messages from Hudson, each one dripping with impotent rage. A smirk tugged at my lips as I powered down the device. Ignoring him felt like the best response I could muster. I chose to treat these five wasted years as a hard-earned lesson. Moving forward, I would focus on loving myself and caring for my mother.
After more than ten hours of flying, we finally touched down at our destination. Only then did I switch on my phone, and it buzzed incessantly with countless unread messages. My hands tingled from the relentless vibrations. Tossing the phone onto the table, I took a full ten minutes to unpack, deliberately regaining my composure.
I didn’t even bother opening Hudson’s 99+ unread Facebook messages. Instead, I blocked him and deleted our chat history without a second thought. But I found myself replaying the live streams sent by the small influencers, captivated by the unfolding drama.