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“We should end things.”
I waited for remorse.
For shame.
For something.
“Let’s divorce. Let’s give each other freedom.”
In that silence, I understood:
He had a plan.
And deep down, he expected me to cry, beg, or break.
He was wrong.
Back to divorce day—
The moment we stepped out of the courthouse, he grinned like a man who’d just won the lottery.
“I’m going to see Violeta. Tonight my family’s celebrating my freedom.”
I only replied:
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