My breath shook. I turned, looking at him across the lobby—smiling, holding our luggage, completely unaware that the curtain had just been pulled back on his little performance. The romantic weekend suddenly felt cheap.
Rehearsed. Mechanical. I walked back to him with steady steps.
“We’re done,” I said calmly. He blinked, baffled. “What?
Why?”
“Because the only thing you’ve invested in is a script. And I’m not interested in starring in it anymore.”
I picked up my bag and walked out into the sunlight—hurt, yes… but freer than I’d felt in years. Sometimes the truth doesn’t break you.
It sets you free. Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered.
Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
