thick with Adonis' s lies and Ariel' s desperate pleas. I mumbled something about needing fre

images and words. Four years. Ariel. She can' t bear the thought of me mar

raining from my limbs. Tears, hot and furious, streamed down my face, blurring the familiar c

ded photograph of us from high school: two grinning teenagers, our arms wrapped around each other, his head nestled against mine. We were at the annual school dance,

tangled, deceitful man? The realization that he had knowingly, repeatedly chosen to hurt me, to build our future on a foundation of lies, was a physical ache. He had allowed Ariel, his patheti

a raw, guttural sound torn

er woman' s emotions. My destiny was not a future built on manufactured pain and hollow promises. M

s apartment behind, was both terrifying and liberating. It was the o

e that was now over. Each photograph, each gift, each shared memory was carefully placed into boxes. The process was agonizing, a brutal excavation of my heart. Adonis had been so woven into the fabric of m

d to rip him out.

k, to ensure there was no lingering trace of our shared past. This physical act of d

hem all, a cold detachment settling in my core. I replied with short, vague answers, claiming I was busy packing, tired, or just needed space. He accepted it,

egal papers and documents for my new life were almost complete. That evening, just as I fin

f nothing had happened. "And I have the most amazing surprise for you! We need to make up

r. A decade of a love that was

emotionless. My heart didn't flutter. It was a c

sounding pleased. "Just tell me where to go.

our old spot, the one where you first told me you loved me." I gave him the address of the restaur

This was about closure. For me, at l