Signed for the Wrong Love

After buying the gifts, I went to my parents' house alone for Christmas.

My parents, Julian Birtwisle and Harper Birtwisle, both looked surprised.

"Where's Ezra? Didn't you two say you'd come together today?"

"Did you two have a fight?"

I smiled. "Dad, Mom, I'm sorry. His company suddenly called him in to work overtime."

Julian and Harper both understood. "Work is important, after all."

But I was looking at a post from my husband, Ezra Dalton's ex-girlfriend, Yvette Sigsworth.

The picture showed an opened gift box.

She had written. "This is the Christmas surprise he carefully prepared for me. He's so thoughtful."

The chocolates I had spent a long time choosing were arranged on a beautiful plate after she took them out of the box.

Then I noticed a hand in the photo. His fingers were long, the joints sharp and distinct. There was also a scar on the thumb of the right hand.

I recognized Ezra's hand at once.

I also noticed that he was no longer wearing his wedding ring on his left ring finger.

One of our mutual friends liked the post and even commented. "You two should get married already!"

I liked the post too.

Ezra quickly sent me a message. "Hayley, after you kicked me out on Christmas, what was I supposed to do? Eat on the street? It's one thing for you to make a scene in front of me, but you even did it in front of Yvette. How embarrassing!"

He kept blaming me.

I couldn't understand how liking a post could count as "making a scene."

What was worse was how affectionate he sounded whenever he talked to Yvette.

But when he talked to me, his attitude was always harsh.

I had brought it up with him before, but Ezra didn't care. "I'm used to it. It's just a way of talking to someone. Can you stop overthinking everything?"

I scrolled up through our old messages. "It's been over two hours. Why hasn't my coffee arrived yet? Can you check if something happened with the delivery driver?"

"I forgot to change the address, so the delivery driver took the coffee to Yvette's place."

"Can you change the default address to our house and delete her address?"

"It's just a cup of coffee. Can you stop being so unreasonable? It's honestly disgusting. Can't you just order another one yourself?"

But Ezra had been the one who offered to order me coffee.

I had waited more than two hours, only to get blamed for it.

I kept scrolling.

"Honey, it's almost midnight. Valentine's Day is about to be over. Where's the surprise you said you prepared for me?"

"I forgot to change the delivery address, so the gift was sent to Yvette's place. I'll make it up to you next time."

...

At some point, my WhatsApp messages with Ezra had become nothing but this.

Packages were sent to the wrong address. Food was delivered to the wrong place.

Last year, Ezra and I had agreed that we would spend Christmas at Julian and Harper's house this year. But he had sent the gifts we bought for them to Yvette by mistake. In the end, he went to Yvette's house too and spent Christmas with her.

I stared silently at the photo of Ezra without his wedding ring.

I suddenly felt ridiculous.

Maybe he hadn't been forgetting to change the delivery address all those times.

Maybe those gifts and meals had been meant for Yvette all along.

I was the mistake that needed to be corrected.

Just then, the lawyer I had contacted sent me a message, so I closed Ezra's chat.

"Ms. Birtwisle, hello. Merry Christmas. I've finished drafting your divorce agreement."

After saying goodbye to Julian and Harper, I went home and printed out the divorce papers.

But just as I was about to sign them, Ezra came home.

He handed me two bags. "Forget about the chocolates. They're easy enough to buy anyway. I went back and picked up the clothes I bought for your parents. This was my fault. How about I take you out for French food tonight to make it up to you?"

I didn't argue.

Julian and Harper both had health issues, so the chocolates I had carefully chosen were only sold at one particular store. They weren't something I could simply buy anywhere.

I also didn't remind Ezra that I hated French food.

I had told him many times before, but he simply didn't care.

Even if I kept repeating myself, he would never remember. He would only think I was being fussy and difficult.

So, I decided it didn't matter anymore.