Tears streamed down my face, hot and uncontrollable.
The pain from the crash was unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the ache his words left behind.
What was 1 to him, really?
His partner?
1:00 PM
<
A convenient distraction for his loneliness?
No, I was less than that. I was air.
Invisible, unnoticed, but always there. In the years when Summer was gone, he’d needed me–not because he cared, but because I was just there, filling the empty spaces she left behind.
Now that Summer was back, I had become carbon dioxide. Something he couldn’t wait to exhale, discard, and forget.
I forced out a bitter, hollow laugh, though it felt more like a gasp.
“Hang up,” I said, my voice raw and cracked.
The nurse looked at me, her face a mixture of pity and hesitation, but I nodded weakly. She ended the call.
I had come to the courthouse not to finalize our divorce but to see him one last time.
I wanted to beg him to stay, to give us another chance.
But his cold indifference had shattered the fragile dream I’d been clinging to.
The truth, raw and brutal, stared me in the face.
Ethan did not love me.
He never had.
Reality hit me like a freight train. My dream of a life with him–of being his wife, of mattering to him–was nothing more than a cruel illusion.
I felt the nurse’s sympathetic gaze on me, but I didn’t care. I broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably in the back of the ambulance.
The people around me whispered, their voices hushed.
“Poor girl,” one of them said. “She must be in so much pain. That crash was brutal.”
I wanted to laugh at the irony, but the sound wouldn’t come.
The tears fell harder instead.
Yes, I was in pain.
But it wasn’t the crash that was killing me.
No, this was a pain that went deeper than broken bones and torn skin.
It was the pain of a thousand dull knives carving through my chest, ripping apart everything I thought I knew about love.
Every blade stripped away another piece of my dignity, my pride, my self–worth.
And yet, in its cruel, merciless way, the pain also woke me up.
It forced me to see the truth I had been too blind to face,
Ethan never loved me.
And now, I needed to stop loving him.
For the first time in years, I felt something stir deep inside me–a spark of clarity, of resolve.
I would crawl out of this endless cycle of heartbreak.
I would let him go.
1:00
<
The accident was brutal, but I was lucky–just a broken left leg.
When the truck tipped over and came crashing toward me, I thought I was going to die.
But somehow, fate decided to spare me.
As I lay in the hospital, Ethan texted me.
“Why are you standing me up? You’ve ruined my chance to show up with the divorce papers and finally see Summer without guilt.”
I stared at his cold, emotionless words, and surprisingly, I smiled.
Once I’d made the decision to let go, these words, which would’ve shattered me before, now felt like nothing more than a breeze in passing.
I looked at his name pinned at the top of my messaging app. The chat history was pristine–completely empty. He had never initiated a conversation with me, not even once. And I, well, I had learned to be “considerate.” I didn’t bother him with texts, only calling when absolutely
necessary.
Even then, I used to feel a strange satisfaction just seeing his name at the top of my screen whenever I opened the app.
But now, things were different.
Scrolling through my feed, I saw his most recent post: a nine–photo collage of a candlelit dinner. Two hands intertwined under the warm glow of the candles, their matching couple rings sparkling as though they were stars themselves.
It was the kind of romance I’d never had with him.
Once, I had suggested buying wedding rings for us. He had frowned and flatly refused, saying he wasn’t comfortable wearing “extraneous things.”
Yet here he was, proudly wearing a couple’s ring.
But I had no right to question him. No right to ask why.
I glanced at the divorce papers sitting on the bedside table. Without hesitation, I signed them, sealed them in an envelope, and mailed them to Ethan.
The nurse knocked softly on my door.
“Miss Lane, your discharge papers are ready.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I had spent two weeks in the hospital. During that time, Ethan hadn’t called, hadn’t visited, hadn’t even asked where I was.
I should’ve felt devastated, but instead, I felt a strange sense of relief.
I packed my things and glanced at my phone one last time, still open to our empty chat. I didn’t hesitate this time.
I blocked him.
Before I hit “confirm,” I typed one final message: “Ethan, goodbye forever.”
5
Life without Ethan felt… quiet.
Without him, time slowed down.
He left me the house, the car, and even our joint savings–as if he wanted to make a clean break. I didn’t feel sorry for him; he still had his company, his success, and most of all, her.
1:00 PM
<
With Summer back in his life, why would he care about material things?
Recovering from a broken leg gave me plenty of time to reflect. For years, my entire world had revolved around Ethan. Even my career was built around supporting his. I had been so consumed by him that I forgot I was once an ambitious, top–tier graduate with dreams of my own.
As my leg healed, I began sending out résumés, determined to start over.
By the time fall rolled around, I was ready to move forward.
One crisp autumn afternoon, as I lounged in my rocking chair by the window enjoying the golden sunlight, I received an email.
It was an invitation from Simon Crane.
Simon Crane–Ethan’s biggest business rival.
Over the years, I’d crossed paths with Simon countless times while working alongside Ethan. He was sharp, disciplined, and utterly relentless -a man who seemed more like a machine than a person.
I couldn’t imagine him wasting time mocking me, but still, I hesitated.
After three minutes of deliberation, I replied, accepting his offer.
When Simon arrived to pick me up, his reaction to my slight limp was immediate. His sharp eyes widened in surprise.
“It’s been a few months, Annie, and now you’re… disabled?”
“Just some lingering effects of a broken leg,” I said casually, brushing it off with a smile. “Shouldn’t you be doubling my salary now that I qualify as a disabled hire?”
He smirked. “You’ve got a good attitude.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied smoothly.
“It was.” His gaze caught the autumn sunlight, his dark eyes glinting like polished obsidian.
I studied him for a moment. The sharp features, broad shoulders, and tapered waist–he was the very definition of unfairly attractive. It was no
wonder women fell for him in droves.
