I moved into a smaller place with a sunny kitchen and a little patio. Some mornings, I still wanted to share something funny with Mark. Other mornings, I felt relieved that I no longer had to wonder where he’d been.
When our divorce became final, Mark messaged me, saying he’d never wanted things to end that way. I didn’t respond.
Three weeks later, Claire called again. Mark had approached her, claiming he was finally free to marry her legally. He even brought the ring.
She refused.
“He wanted me to believe those moments were romantic,” she explained. “But they were excuses to go home to you.”
She told him she’d fallen in love with someone who didn’t exist and returned the ring.
Later that summer, I learned Mark’s fishing friends had also stopped inviting him on their annual trips. They’d realized he’d lied to them, too.
While unpacking a box from our old house, I found his original wedding ring. For years, I’d kept it safe as a small act of love.
