LOGINAt the engagement party for one of our former high school classmates, the bride suggested we play King's Cup. Whoever drew Eight had to do a cross-arm toast with someone of the opposite sex in front of everyone. My husband, Luke Flandern, had always been a germaphobe. The second he saw the card in his hand, his brow furrowed. I stood up, ready to help him out. But then—Sarah Weaver, the girl everyone called the beauty of our class, who was sitting right across from him—asked softly, "Need a hand?" Luke looked at her, and the frown on his face instantly melted. "Yeah, sure." The room erupted. Everyone was laughing and cheering. "Classic Luke—always generous. No wonder he was valedictorian back in the day." "Someone get this on camera. The golden couple from high school is finally reconnecting after all these years? That's destiny right there." Sarah blushed and shyly reached her wine glass toward him. Luke smiled and didn't pull away. I just stood off to the side, quietly watching the two of them drink that cross-arm toast together. And then I remembered how I'd been ready to help him out. A bitter smile crossed my lips. Guess I was kidding myself.
View MoreDays passed. And on day twenty-one, I gave the flowers he sent to the cleaning staff to throw away.The messages he sent—I didn't reply to a single one.The calls he made—I blocked them all.Little by little, his confidence wore away. The light in his eyes faded day by day, replaced by a thicker, heavier despair.He finally understood that some things, once broken, could never be put back together again.The day the divorce waiting period ended was clear and sunny.Luke drove to pick me up. He was wearing the same white shirt he had on the day we first registered our marriage, his hair neatly styled. It almost looked like he wasn't heading to a divorce—but to a wedding.The entire drive, we said nothing.When the car stopped in front of the courthouse, Luke turned off the engine but didn't get out right away.After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse."Avery… is there really… not even a single chance left?"I looked at the bright sunlight outside the window an
Luke posted a photo publicly on his social media feed—our marriage certificate.The caption had only four words: [It's always been you.]That post landed like a hard, brutal slap across Sarah's face.She lost it, calling Luke over and over, demanding to know what he meant—whether he really intended to cement her reputation as the "other woman" just for my sake.Luke didn't respond.Instead, he immediately posted a long statement in the high school class group chat.Luke: [Hey guys, I'm sorry for taking up public attention with my personal issues. There are a few things I need to clear up here.]Luke: [First, Avery and I have been together since freshman year of high school. We've been married for five years, and our relationship has always been stable and loving.]Luke: [Second, what happened at last night's party was a complete misunderstanding caused by my poor handling of the situation, which put my wife through unnecessary pain.]Luke: [Third, I love my wife, Avery. The on
Below the video was the same "holding hands photo" that Sarah had posted in the class group chat the night before.The influencer paired it with overly dramatic, sensationalized text, spinning a touching story about a "valedictorian who waited ten years for his first love and finally reunited with her."At first, the comment section was flooded with blessings and envy.[OMG, what kind of fairy tale love is this?! I believe in love again!][From high school sweethearts to happily ever after—this is too perfect!][He's so handsome, she's so gorgeous—absolutely a match made in heaven!]Sarah even jumped in herself, replying from her own account: [Thank you all for the blessings. We will be happy.] Clearly, she had no hesitation in casting herself as the heroine.Netizens got even more excited, praising them as the perfect model of a campus romance.But soon, as the video spread further and wider, an unexpected twist began to emerge.One comment caught everyone's attention.[Wa
But now, all Luke felt was annoyance.His mind was filled with the icy look in my eyes when I left—and that one sentence: Let's get a divorce.Just as he was about to refuse coldly, another message popped up in the high school class group chat.It was from me.Under the photo that had just set the whole group on fire, I calmly replied: [Congratulations.]No anger. No interrogation. Not even a hint of emotion.It read like a polite blessing from a stranger watching two unrelated people from a distance.Luke stared at the message. Something in his chest clenched violently, as if an invisible hand had reached in and squeezed his heart.The pain made it hard to breathe.Suddenly, memories came flooding back, unstoppable.He remembered freshman year of high school—me with a ponytail, cheeks flushed, slipping breakfast milk into his desk.He had a weak stomach. Every morning, I showed up half an hour early just to wait in line at the cafeteria for a bowl of warm soup for him.He
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