After My Ex Opened the 100th Urn, He Went Crazy with Regret

He'd thrown himself at a pack of street thugs bare-handed when they cornered me—walked away soaked in his own blood.

The doctor said another inch to the left on that chest wound and nothing could have saved him.

That was how hard a boy could love, and it burned through every wall I had.

My parents washed their hands of me, told the world they no longer had a daughter.

After that we were too busy scraping by—hustling for money, hustling to survive.

Then the business found its footing.

He got busy cheating. I got busy catching him.

Round after round, and the wedding we'd promised each other never materialized.

The two gown designs I'd sketched were shoved in a drawer, a promise that never came due.

Now they'd become another woman's bridal dress.

I looked him in the eye.

“Winston, I designed that dress.”

He went still for a beat, then cocked an eyebrow. “Name your price.”

My nails dug into my palms. My voice came out raw. “You can't just swap one for the other.”

“What's so special about them?” His hands stayed in his pockets, his tone already bored. “If April didn't like the design, they'd be scrap paper.”

I actually laughed.

I had no idea his memory was this short.

Every promise, every wish, every shred of love—gone.

All those years of money and nightlife and excess had worked like a pickpocket, lifting away the Winston who once had eyes for nothing but me.

“Don't fight over me—……”

April clamped a hand over her mouth, face going white, and gagged.

His expression changed instantly. He unscrewed the cap of a thermos with practiced ease and brought it to her lips.

“Tired?” He rubbed her belly gently. “We're done for today. You and Leo both need rest.”

He lifted her carefully into his arms and left without a single glance back at me.

I stood frozen, cold to the bone.

Leo.

That was the name of our first child.

After the miscarriage, the guilt wouldn't let me go. I lay awake night after night, turning it over and over until I could barely hold myself together.

Winston knelt before the Buddha for seven straight days and copied the Rebirth Mantra a hundred times just to earn that name.

“May he come and go without sorrow, and dwell always in joy.”

The perpetual memorial lamp inscribed with our child's name still burned at Mercy Haven Temple.

And he'd handed that name to another woman like it weighed nothing at all.

What an absurd life this was.

One of the staff must have read my face. She stepped closer, voice low. ：“Miss Pruitt, shall we bar them from the property?”

I took a long breath.

“No need.”

Let them savor whatever warmth they have left. Dawn was coming.

The trip was over.

I came home. The new locks were untouched.

Winston was too busy taking his new woman around the world to bother with the “marital home.”

I laughed at that, and kept laughing until my throat went tight.

I remembered how he'd barged into the Pruitt house and dropped to his knees in front of my parents.

“Sir, ma'am—please, give Lottie to me.”

“Unless I'm dead, I will never betray her.”

My parents didn't believe him. I did.

I turned my back on everything and gave all I had to build a life with him.

Every single thing in this house, we'd chosen together.

The floor mat from a secondhand market. The TV stand he'd built by hand. The sofa throw I'd crocheted stitch by stitch.

Even after we had money, we never moved.

I'd been so certain that when he said forever, he meant forever. He didn't.

His heart had been worn down by the years, corroded from the inside. And when I finally cracked it open, there was nothing left—rotten all the way through.

The exhaustion hit me like a wall.

I called a realtor that same hour and told them to sell the house. I packed the 100 urns and shipped them out, then cleared everything else down to bare walls.

When it was done, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out.

I looked back one last time, sure I would ache.