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ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN

Author: Hummingbird
last update Last Updated: 2025-11-27 20:04:43

DIANA

The bar isn’t even nice.

It is dim and loud and smells faintly like old beer and cheap cologne, but I slip inside anyway because it is the only place still open and lit. I want noise. I want people. I want anything that isn’t the silence of that hotel room with his anger still vibrating in the air.

I slide onto a barstool and drop my face into my hands. My palms are cold. My eyes sting. I take a long breath and keep it in my chest until it hurts.

“Rough night?” someone asks.

I ignore him. I’m too tired to pretend I’m fine.

The bartender passes by and I almost ask for water. My throat feels like sand. But then I remember I have no cash. My phone is still with Mikhail. My entire life is in the hotel room with a man who looked at me like I had cracked something important open.

And I walked out anyway.

“Let me get you a drink,” the voice says again, closer this time. A man in a leather jacket sits beside me. He has a shaved head and a smile he thinks is charming. I lift my head slig
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  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    I LOVE YOU, Di

    The moment she hears his voice, something in her chest folds in on itself.Mikhail steps out of the shadows like the forest had been holding its breath for him. His eyes are a storm she recognises instantly, focused and cold, but underneath the frost there is a crack she caused. She knows it. She feels it.Spade shifts, one arm moving just slightly in front of her in a protective way she never asked for. Mikhail’s eyes drop to that hand and something violent blooms in his expression.“Let her go,” Mikhail says quietly.Spade’s jaw tightens. “You do not own her.”“Look at me.” Mikhail says ignoring Spade. “I can see you just fine.” Spade retorts “I am not speaking to you,” Mikhail replies, and his voice is softer now, directed at Diana, almost pleading. “Come here.”Her heart breaks a little because that softness is for her alone.But Spade’s grip on her wrist grows firmer when she takes one hesitant step toward Mikhail.“No,” Spade says. “Dan gave me this order. I am not letting you

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE

    The ridge narrowed as they climbed, the air cooler, the trees swaying sharply below them. The guide was rambling about safety and footing and how the view ahead was always worth the strain, but Diana was barely listening. Her thoughts kept drifting to the shadow she’d seen earlier, the one that felt too solid to be a trick of the light. She kept glancing to the trees, to the shifting darkness beneath the branches.Mikhail stayed close behind her. She could feel it. His attention was sharp, not on the scenery, but on the perimeter around them. She wondered if he had seen it too.When they reached the top, the group spread out, taking photos, laughing, bickering over who carried the snacks. Mikhail moved beside her. His hand brushed her back in a quiet check. She leaned into it before she could stop herself.He was about to say something when the guide called for them to regroup. The group groaned. Mikhail exhaled slowly as if holding back a curse. Diane tried to smile but the unease in

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FOUR

    They reach the ridge just as the sun begins its late-afternoon descent, gold spilling over the trees like it’s trying to disguise how eerie the forest truly is. The others gather near the edge, chattering and pointing at the valley below. Diana stands a few feet away from them, close enough to seem social, far enough to breathe.Mikhail is behind her.Always behind her.He’s pretending to look at the view, but he’s not subtle. His eyes keep cutting sideways to scan the tree line on both sides of the ridge, heavy with suspicion, his shoulders squared like he’s waiting for something to step out.Diana tries not to stare at him too obviously. Except she fails.He’s tense. Too tense.Too focused on the shadows instead of the people.“Mikhail,” she murmurs softly, pretending to look at a cluster of pine trees. “Is something wrong?”“Everybody gather! Time for the ridge crossing. Careful, it’s narrow.”Diana takes a breath. The narrow path ahead is a thin strip of packed dirt, winding along

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY THREE

    The guide’s voice cuts through the hush of the forest, loud enough to break the spell but not loud enough to calm the pulse still drumming in her throat.“Everyone, circle back. There is still more ground to cover before lunch.”Diana swallows and turns, pretending she had not just felt her world tilt on its axis. She pretends she has not just felt Mikhail’s fingers in her hair or the quiet praise that has been echoing inside her chest since he said she was beautiful.She walks toward the group with carefully even steps. Mikhail is a silent shadow behind her, heavy, steady, powerful. When she glances back, he is not watching her. He is staring at the trees again, that same frown carved between his brows, the one she saw earlier. The one she tried to ignore.It feels different this time. Sharper. More focused.The others are chatting loudly, laughing like they have forgotten anyone else exists, but the silence between her and Mikhail hums. It feels intimate and private and dangerous in

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TWO

    They kept walking until the path narrowed, the air shifting into something cooler. Diana heard it before she saw it, a low rushing sound growing louder with every step. The guide announced something about a “rest stop ahead,” but she wasn’t listening. Her pulse was still fluttering from Mikhail’s words, from the way his fingers had brushed her ear, from the wildflowers still woven softly into her hair.The trees parted and the waterfall revealed itself.It wasn’t large, not the kind that roared with force, but a tall silver sheet spilling into a crystal pool. Mist hung over the surface like a soft veil. Sunlight filtered through leaves and turned the droplets into tiny prisms. It looked untouched, peaceful, hidden from the rest of the loud and complicated world.The group scattered, some taking pictures, some heading toward the stones at the edge of the water. Diana stood still, letting the scene pull her in. She breathed in the scent of water and moss, the coolness licking over her s

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE

    The forest was quiet in that unsettling way nature sometimes chose. Peaceful, but carrying the kind of silence that made your skin prickle. Diana hiked along the narrow trail with the rest of the group, following the path that curved between tall pines and scattered ferns. Sunlight filtered through the branches, leaving moving patches of gold that danced across the ground. Her boots crunched on gravel and dried needles. She kept her eyes forward, steady, but something flickered at the edge of her vision.She froze.It was just behind a thick cluster of trees. A dark shape. Wide. Low. Moving or maybe still. She could not tell. Her breath hitched and she took a step back, her fingers curling around the strap of her backpack. Her mind ran through the frightful images she had seen online of hikers being chased, dragged, mauled. Bears were fast. Bears were terrifying. Bears did not care if you were a good person or a mother or someone who did not deserve to be torn apart.She blinked hard.

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