When I got home and opened the door, I saw a fancy box on the table.Angelo Harmon was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. A week had passed since our blowout fight over his mistress, and he had been absent.By now, I had stopped obsessing over where he had been or what he had been doing, like some bitter wife. Had he not shown up that day, I might have begun to forget his existence.He stood up, trying to slip his arms around my waist.I stepped back, dodging his touch. His embrace, once cherished, now made my stomach churn.Angelo froze, but he didn't fuss over it. Instead, he picked up the box and handed it to me. "You said your watch broke, so I got you a new one. See if you like it."I knew this was his attempt to smooth things over.For five years, whenever we fought, he'd offer small gifts, and I'd let go of my anger, forgiving him. Those heartbreaking nights had always faded when he extended an olive branch.But now, I was done.Without even a glance at
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