-POV Derby
The photos wouldn’t leave me alone.
Even after I turned off my phone, even after I threw it across the room and curled up on the couch with my knees pulled tight to my chest, the images kept flashing behind my closed eyes like a film reel I couldn’t stop. Jordan and Tamara under the gala lights. Her hand resting lightly on his arm. The way they looked together — elegant, powerful, perfectly matched — like they had always belonged in the same frame. The captions that called them “stronger than ever.” The comments that painted me as the desperate mistake who had tried to ruin a legacy.
I knew I shouldn’t have looked.
I knew opening those articles was like pressing on a bruise just to feel the pain.
But I couldn’t stop myself. Because every time I tried to look away, the memor
