Dear Ex, See you never
I find the magazine's website and read the article again, studying every photograph.
Her in the garden, her in some elaborate living room, her looking at the camera with an expression of confidence and contentment that makes me want to throw my laptop against the wall.
How did she get there?
How did Millicent, plain, ordinary, and never-good-enough Millicent, end up married to a billionaire while I'm sitting in a one-bedroom apartment wondering if I can afford rent next month?
The answer is obvious, even through the whiskey haze.
She traded up.
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