The suffocating dread crushed Julian until he couldn't breathe.
He abandoned the entire gala and sped home, running every red light.
By the time he pushed open the front door, it was the dead of night.
The villa was hollow. Not a trace of warmth. A terrible, ringing silence.
Before, no matter how late he came home, the moment he heard the engine die, I would quietly set a glass of warm water on the coffee table.
Tonight, there was nothing.
The glass was dry.
The woman who'd stubbornly stayed no matter how much agony he put her through was gone.
On the coffee table, beside the signed divorce papers, sat a cheap ring made from a pull-tab.
His proposal token.
He'd assumed I'd thrown it away years ago. Instead, I'd kept it carefully all this time.
And now, I had returned it.
Julian
