Chapter 7
The paper had yellowed with age, but the handwriting was still crystal clear.
Eighteen–year–old Lorian had written in his bold, cocky scrawl:
To my 28–year–old self:
You must’ve married Saffron by now, right? God, I’m so fucking jealous!The life you’re living is everything I dream
about.
So you better treat Saffron like a goddamn queen, spoil her rotten, or I swear I’ll haunt your ass.
Remember to make her soup every day–her immune system sucks.
Take her to Italy to see that castle from the Studio Ghibli movies–she’s been talking about it for eight years.
Don’t forget she’s terrified of needles and allergic as hell to mangoes.
And remember she’s scared of thunderstorms–you better be there to hold her every single time.
At the very bottom, there was a line in smaller handwriting, meant for me.
“Saffron, baby,if ten years from now I’m not treating you right, leave my away and never forgive me.”
I traced that line with my finger, tears streaming down my face.
“Well,” I whispered. “I’m listening.”
When the reunion ended, I hugged every single classmate goodbye.
Then I took a cab to the Family Court.
Today was the day our divorce decree became official. I finally got my divorce papers, officially ending this
marriage.
Watching that official stamp come down, my heart felt hollowed out, but weirdly free.
Before leaving, I wiped all my contact info from everything.
Then I went home one last time.
Left the abortion receipt and divorce papers on the coffee table.
Finally took a taxi to the airport.
15:43
Husband’s Secretary Affair Exposed–Then I Fell Into College Upperclass’s Arms
4.0%
Chapter 7
On the plane, the sunset outside my window looked like spilled blood.
I suddenly remembered when I was eighteen, he’d cornered me after school and said,
“Saffron, you’re mine. You can’t run from me.”
You were wrong, Lorian.
This time, I ran.
And I’m never looking back…
