I smiled.
On the mantel sat one photograph from the wedding—not the one Veronica had destroyed. This one showed me alone before the ceremony, looking directly into the camera.
Calm. Certain. Whole.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Adrian.
I hope someday you can forgive me.
I turned the screen facedown.
Forgiveness didn’t mean reopening the door.
Sometimes the most satisfying revenge was realizing that the people who once tried to control you no longer had any way to reach you.
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