Our Ten Years End Here

During the thirty-day reconciliation period, I visited every place my husband, Declan James, and I had ever been to, sat in the spots we used to share, ordered his favorite food, and relived the memories we had made together.

I sent the photos and videos to him over and over again.

"Declan, look at how things used to be, please?"

He never replied.

On the very last day, I stayed in and dug out my old college phone.

The further up I scrolled through our chat history, the more deeply Declan had loved me. No matter how trivial my questions were, he answered every single one with care.

Even when I sent him a random photograph of a cloud, he'd reply: [Wish I could see it with you.]

Until I scrolled all the way back to the very first day we got together.

That night, he had sent me a picture of the night view outside his window, saying he was already home.

I began to smile, but the moment I tapped on the photo, I froze solid.

In the bottom corner of the glass reflection, a woman was leaning against his shoulder.

On her wrist was the friendship bracelet I had given to my best friend, Emma Anderson.

It turned out that every single time she urged me to let Declan go, she was just waiting for me to step aside and hand him over.

I sat there numbly for a long time, then sent Declan one final message: [We don't need to wait for the court's judgment.]

[I agree to the divorce.]

Not even a minute after the message went through, Declan's name flashed on my screen.

It was the first time he'd replied to me instantly in the entire thirty-day reconciliation period.

I stared at his name on the display, but my chest felt completely hollow, devoid of any hope.

When I picked up, he was quiet for two seconds before his voice dropped low.

"Harper, what are you trying to pull now?"

A sudden laugh burst out of me.

Even when I finally agreed to a divorce, in his eyes it wasn't letting go, just another stunt in a series of dramas.

My old phone's screen was still glowing, holding that exact photo in place.

In the glass reflection, Emma was leaning against his shoulder, wearing the friendship bracelet I had fastened around her wrist with my own hands.

The day I gave it to her, I had even laughed and said, "No matter who I end up marrying one day, you'll always be one of the most important people in my life."

Emma had pulled me into a hug, her voice as heavy and solemn as a vow. "Harper, I would never lie to you."

I stared at the reflection for a long time, and then I asked Declan, "Was the woman from three years ago Emma?"

The line on the other end went dead silent.

I heard his breathing turn heavy, like he had finally been cornered into a space he had spent three years trying to dodge.

After a long pause, he murmured, "That's in the past."

No explanation. No denial either.

A hot tear dropped onto the screen, blurring the two figures in the reflection into a messy smear.

"In the past?"

I laughed until my chest hurt.

"When I was trying to find out who she was three years ago, I stayed awake night after night. I dug my nails into my wrists until they bled. Emma held me while I cried, telling me to stop digging, saying you weren't worth destroying myself over."

My voice cracked and turned hoarse, the words barely making it out.

"Turns out she wasn't hurting for me at all. She was just terrified I'd figure out it was her."

Declan stayed silent on the other end of the line.

I didn't wait for him to say another word, cut the call dead, and walked straight out the door.