I stood at the front of the bookstore and watched strangers cry over the pages of our story, realizing our private pain had become public hope.
“Mrs. Hart,” the young event organizer whispered beside me, “they’re still lining up. We’ve never had a signing like this.”
I smiled and signed another copy. “Please, call me Ivy. And thank you for hosting us tonight.”
Dylan stood a few feet away, talking quietly with Hope and Lucas. Every so often his eyes found mine across the room, steady and proud. The cover of my book stared up from every table. Divorced but Obsessed. Our title. Our truth.
A middle-aged woman stepped forward, eyes red. “I finished it last night. I stayed in a marriage that felt like a contract for twelve years because I thought leaving meant I had failed. Your story made m
