After Discovering The Abnormal Relationship Between My Father-in-law And Wife, I Got Divorced-13
The Blocked Number
James sent this to claim victory. I deleted Lisa's defunct number everywhere—contacts, backups, social media. Purged all traces. Setting my phone down, I exhaled. Deletion wasn't forgetting; it was a cold boundary marker in ruins.Over a year passed. In a new city, work flourished.
A New Beginning?
I met Amira—bright, independent. We dated, visited galleries, took weekend trips. No rules, no calls. One evening in a bar, soft lights, perfect mood. I leaned in; she didn't flinch. But as my lips neared her cheek, visceral revulsion surged—a reflex from the past. I recoiled, stammering, "Sorry—bathroom." In the mirror, my face was ashen. Some shards, though discarded, still pierce.
Silent Endings
No messages came after the photo. Nightmares invaded—hands on locks, feet entwined, the bathroom "eye." I awoke sweating. Deliberately, I avoided news of Lisa. Insomnia sometimes dredged the question: In James's world, was she happy? Or a hothouse plant, pruned and controlled, forgetting how to grow free? I'll never know. That chasm divides past from present, me from the woman forever trapped as "princess." We stand on opposite shores, shrouded in silence and shifting time.
James sent this to claim victory. I deleted Lisa's defunct number everywhere—contacts, backups, social media. Purged all traces. Setting my phone down, I exhaled. Deletion wasn't forgetting; it was a cold boundary marker in ruins.Over a year passed. In a new city, work flourished.
A New Beginning?
I met Amira—bright, independent. We dated, visited galleries, took weekend trips. No rules, no calls. One evening in a bar, soft lights, perfect mood. I leaned in; she didn't flinch. But as my lips neared her cheek, visceral revulsion surged—a reflex from the past. I recoiled, stammering, "Sorry—bathroom." In the mirror, my face was ashen. Some shards, though discarded, still pierce.
Silent Endings
No messages came after the photo. Nightmares invaded—hands on locks, feet entwined, the bathroom "eye." I awoke sweating. Deliberately, I avoided news of Lisa. Insomnia sometimes dredged the question: In James's world, was she happy? Or a hothouse plant, pruned and controlled, forgetting how to grow free? I'll never know. That chasm divides past from present, me from the woman forever trapped as "princess." We stand on opposite shores, shrouded in silence and shifting time.