I’ll be filing for divorce first thing tomorrow morning.”
Mark finally found his voice. “Claire, please wait. It didn’t mean anything, I swear!”
But I was already walking away, head held high.
As I reached the door, I paused, looking back one last time.
“Enjoy the dessert,” I said.
“It’s to die for.”
And with that, I walked out into the night, leaving chaos in my wake.
I found out later, via Nancy, that the aftermath was swift and merciless. Mark’s family disowned him. Rachel lost most of her friends.
And me? I started over.
It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering how I’d missed the signs.
But slowly, surely, I began to heal.
A few weeks after everything went down, I got a text from an unknown number.
“Hey, it’s Jake, your wedding photographer. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. Those photos… I’m so sorry you had to find out that way, but I thought you deserved to know the truth.
I was also afraid you wouldn’t believe me if you didn’t see it yourself.”
I stared at the message, a small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe it was time for a new chapter. Maybe it was time to start believing in happily ever afters again.
I typed back: “Thanks, Jake.
It’s been rough, but I appreciate what you did for me. How about we grab coffee, and you can tell me all about your sneaky photography skills?”
Sometimes, the perfect shot isn’t the one you pose for. Sometimes, it’s the one that shows you the truth, even when it hurts.
And sometimes, it leads you exactly where you’re meant to be.
