We sit at the dining table, watching the candle flicker like the last ember of a dying fire. Jack shifts, clears the finalized divorce papers, and sets them aside with the care of a surgeon. The edges of the documents are sharp, like the words and arguments that led us here, but his hands are steady. I pass him the salt, and our fingers brush, a soft collision that neither of us acknowledges. "We're free now," he says, his voice steady and clear. The words should be a relief, a declaration of independence, but they cling to the air like smoke. "Finally, a fresh start," I reply, echoing his calm. My fingers tap on the plate, a nervous metronome keeping time with my thoughts. Jack nods, a solemn agreement, and I see his eyes flicker to the papers before settling back on his food. We eat in quiet rhythm, words and glances punctuating the meal like stops and starts on a broken line. The room is a mix of shadows and warmth, the dim light casting our reflections against the walls. I look a
Last Updated : 2025-11-15 Read more