That night,Ethan flooded my phone with messages.
He’d somehow found my new address,sending cakes,then a huge bouquet of roses.
I rejected them,but he kept piling gifts at my door,just for a meeting.

Through the security camera,I saw the mountain of presents,sighing.
Before our divorce,Ethan was always busy with work.
Time for me was rare.
Anniversaries,birthdays,Valentine’s Day—he was never there.
This year,for Valentine’s, I'd cooked a delicious meal, bought his favorite vinyl record, and even ordered new rings, hoping to create a special memory.
He promised to rush home.

I waited until 11 p.m.,the food had gone cold.
At midnight,he stumbled in,reeking of sweet perfume.
I finally lost my temper and started crying about how long I'd waited.
He looked baffled.“Sarah,I never asked you to wait for me.”

“My job doesn’t leave any room for family.We agreed before wo got married.”
We had.
His words left me speechless.
I married him for love,but couldn’t endure endless neglect.
Without that spark of love,I’d have divorced sooner.
Before Emily returned,I might’ve left.
Now,his gifts were carefully chosen,precious.
It wasn’t about time—he just didn’t love me.
Love,or lack of it,was clear.
I scrolled through our old text messages. There were countless messages from me, and his replies were few and far between, always short and brusque.
Now,he was the one begging.
His latest texts:
“Sarah,I never actually slept with Emily.”
“I was blinded,saying those divorce words.Can you give me a chance?”
“I’m more educated,earn more money.You’d better off with me.”
I could just picture him saying these things with a straight face.
To him,I was just a state college grad with an ordinary job.
Marrying him was a step up.
That's probably why he felt so little guilt about cheating with Emily.
Our love was never equal.
Even now,he seemed to think I'd come crawling back to him.
It all made sense.
I blocked him,returning his gifts untouched.
The death of his mother was a huge obstacle between us—one that couldn't be overcome.
If I could go back in time,I’d never have chosen Ethan in the first place.
I went back to work,then got calls from friends.
They said Ethan got drunk last night,crashed his car,and was badly hurt.
In a coma,he mumbled my name.
They asked me to visit.
I refused.
From the moment I decided,I wouldn’t waste a second on that wreck of a man.
I worked,went home,petted my new cat’s soft fur.
Now that I wasn't constantly revolving around someone else, life was uncomplicated and filled with joy.
Along time later,I heard news about Ethan—on the television.