I just got divorced and moved abroad. My ex-husband immediately married his mistress. During the wedding, a guest said something that drove him crazy.
And after that, he called me.
8 years ago, Ethan, my husband, had proposed to me at this very corner table. Today, I had reserved the same table and ordered the same steak he loved so much for our final goodbye.
On paper, we were about to stop being husband and wife, but this dinner was the last ritual to sever any remaining emotional ties. He arrived 15 minutes late.
The white shirt he wore was the same one I had impeccably ironed for him the week before I moved my things out of our apartment.
Ethan pulled out the chair and sat down without an apology, without even looking at me. His eyes were glued to his phone, his fingers swiping frantically across the screen. Occasionally, a sly smile would appear on that face I once loved madly.
I knew exactly who he was texting.
Ashley, his very young secretary, the one who had inserted herself into our marriage. The waiter brought the plates.
Ethan’s steak sizzled on its cast iron plate, releasing a fragrant steam. He picked up his knife and fork and cut a piece, chewing mechanically.
“I ordered what you like,” I said, breaking the oppressive silence.
Yeah, he replied curtly, not looking up from his phone. I looked at the man in front of me. His coldness no longer hurt me.
It only brought me an immense sense of relief.
The glass of red wine on the table trembled slightly. I took a sip.
Its bitterness helped to calm me. Once all the paperwork is done, I’ve already bought my ticket, I said in a monotone voice.
I’m moving to Oregon as soon as everything is finished.
This time his fingers stopped. He looked up. A fleeting surprise crossed his face before being replaced by his usual indifference.
Oregon.
And what are you going to do there? My grandmother left me a small house in Willow Creek, a town near the coast.
I’m going to settle there. I thought he would ask something more.
Perhaps a faint attempt to keep me, or at least a clumsy wish for good luck.
But no, Ethan just shrugged as if I had just told him the weather forecast. “Whatever you want, it’s for the best,” he said, and the smile returned. “Ashley and I are also planning the wedding.
She deserves a grand ceremony.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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