Goodbye, My Ex-husband! You're Nothing!

I didn’t expect to hear Kier’s voice again, not like this, not after decades of burying that part of my life. The old me. The girl who fought for first place and dreamed of runways and sketches, not dirty floors and cold beds.

“Marry me instead,” he’d added so easily, like we were still seventeen, like we hadn’t lost each other to our separate wars.

A laugh slipped out of me, rusty and sharp. “Marry you? We’re old, Kier.”

“Come on, Karylle.” His grin almost crackled through the line. “Wouldn’t this be the sweetest revenge? They’d lose their house ghost and you’d finally live. What’s stopping you?”

I looked at my reflection in the dark kitchen window—bruised cheekbone, split lip, eyes that had died and come back to life all in a week. What was stopping me?

“Why not?” I said, my voice steadier than my pulse. “Fine. Let’s meet in Tokyo.”

His chuckle was warm, so different from the cold laughter I’d grown used to. “Tokyo Disneyland. You’ve been waiting twenty years, right?”

“Twenty years too late, but maybe just in time.” I hung up before I could change my mind.

I turned and nearly jumped. Mike was standing in the hallway, eyes narrowed.

“Tokyo? What the hell are you mumbling about? Who were you talking to?”

I slipped my phone into my pocket, calm as I could. “Nothing. Just the travel agency confirming your booking for tomorrow. Everything’s arranged.”

Nico stepped in behind him, scratching his head. “And our things? Passports? The hotel?”

“All packed. Ready to go.” I forced a smile. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”

They exchanged a glance—arrogant, satisfied. “Good,” Mike said. “We expect you to stay here and behave once we’re gone. Guard the house. Don’t embarrass us.”

“Of course,” I said. My voice was sugar, but my chest felt like fireworks. “And don’t worry. Maybe you’ll find a cute keychain for me.”

Nico snorted, patting my shoulder like I was a faithful dog. “Sure, we’ll get you a keychain.” He turned away, already done with me.

The next morning, the house buzzed with fake happiness. Luggage dragged across marble, laughter echoing off walls that would soon be empty. Sasha twirled in the hallway, all perfume and pretend sweetness.

“Sis,” she purred, pressing a kiss to my cheek that made my skin crawl. “Don’t worry, we’ll send you photos from the castle. Micah’s going to love it.”

I nodded, hands folded to keep them from shaking. But then my eyes caught something on her wrist. A thin gold bracelet with a small ruby clasp. My father’s bracelet. The last thing he’d given me.

“That’s mine,” I said quietly.

Sasha’s smile didn’t waver. “This? But Mike gave it to me. It looks better on me anyway.”

My daughter’s voice cut through my protest before it even left my throat. “Mom, don’t be dramatic. Grandpa’s dead. Let her have it.”

I waited for someone—anyone—to stand by me. Nico? Mike? But they just looked past me like I was a stain on the carpet. So I swallowed the anger, pressing it down until it turned cold.

“Of course,” I said softly. “Keep it.”

Sasha smirked. “Good girl.”

They left in a swirl of laughter and rolling suitcases, Micah waving her sticky fingers in my direction before bounding into the car. I stood by the gate until they were nothing but dust in the driveway.

Then I moved. I packed the last of my clothes, folding them with care like they were precious even if they were decades old. I pulled off my wedding ring, the metal cold and heavy in my palm. I placed it on the kitchen table beside the divorce papers—my final gift to the life that had caged me.

One last thing—I changed the passcode on the house, locking every door they once slammed in my face. My bag was heavy, but my chest felt lighter than it had in years.

A taxi pulled up by the curb, but before I could climb in, a black car slid next to it, window rolling down. Kier leaned out, that infuriating grin on his face.

“Heading somewhere, Mrs. Reid?”

I laughed—a real, sharp laugh that bounced off the old gate. “Well, Mr. Dela Cruz, are you offering me a ride to Disneyland?”

He opened the door, tilting his head. “I’m better than your husband, aren’t I?”

I slipped into the seat beside him, the air between us buzzing with old memories and new freedom. “So far, you already are.”

The road to the airport felt like a dream—no Mike, no Nico, no Sasha’s poison dripping in my ear. Just Kier humming old love songs under his breath while the city blurred by.

Hours later, as the plane taxied onto the runway, I pressed my forehead to the tiny oval window. My phone buzzed on my tray table—Mike’s name flashing bright as a curse.

Mike: Why is the travel agency not answering? What did you do? Where are you? Fix this mess!

I smiled, tapping out my last words to the man who buried me alive for twenty years.

Me: Oh, sorry. I cancelled your trip. I left something for you at home, too. Goodbye, my dear. You’ll never see me again.

I removed my SIM card, then I opened the window just a crack, enough to feel the rush of cold wind kiss my face. The card slipped from my fingers, tumbling through the sky.

I closed the window, leaned back in my seat, and felt the weight on my chest lift, piece by piece. For the first time in twenty years, I wasn’t waiting for someone to call me back home.