POV: Emerald (Vanessa)I didn't read gossip articles.I don't need to. My phone buzzed nonstop, sure, but that wasn’t new. Headlines came and went like weather. I wore confidence like armor and made sure my silence was louder than any headline they could print.So while the internet was in flames over who I used to be—Vanessa Michaelson, ex-wife, “the wife who got thrown away”—I was doing yoga on my penthouse terrace, the skyline of Manhattan glittering below me, a glass of citrus-infused water in reach, my son giggling nearby with his sketchpad.I inhaled deeply, then exhaled the past.The sun was warm on my skin. The silk of my matching workout set moved like a second skin. My hair was loose, free, soft around my shoulders. No cameras here. No pity. No rage. Just breath, just blood, just being.“Mommy,” Kelvin called, holding up his sketchbook. “Look. I drew the tree from the park.”I dropped to one knee beside him, brushing his curls back gently.“It’s beautiful, Kelvin”. I kissed
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