Then, one afternoon, an elegant envelope arrived in the mail. Heavy paper, embossed lettering. My name written in familiar handwriting.
It was Adrian’s wedding invitation.
He was marrying Sophia, a woman from a prominent family. The gold-trimmed card practically gleamed with wealth and pride. I could almost hear his voice in my head—smooth, smug, self-assured.
He wasn’t inviting me out of kindness. I knew that instantly. He wanted to show off. He wanted to see me uncomfortable, to remind me of what I’d “lost.”
For a few minutes, I stared at the invitation, unsure how to feel. Old memories rose like ghosts—our first apartment, our laughter, the night he walked away. But those ghosts no longer haunted me.
So I took a deep breath, smiled, and set the card aside.
