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I didn’t need to. My silence said more than any insult ever could.
I paid for my groceries, walked right past them, and left.
I had spent years wondering if they ever regretted it.
If they ever thought about what they did to me. And there they were, unraveling in front of strangers while their daughter cried and their love story crashed and burned.
They had each other, and they became each other’s punishment.
That night, I called my mom. Told her I’d seen them.
She got quiet.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said softly. “They’re not happy. Chloe calls sometimes, but it’s always chaos.
I don’t say this often, but I think you’re the lucky one.”
I looked around my apartment, the place I had made warm and safe and mine. And I smiled again.
Sometimes karma doesn’t show up the way you expect.
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