I Don't Love You Anymore, Please Be A Qualified Ex

During a lively gathering, a woman watches her intoxicated boyfriend hold hands with his former flame. As he publicly laments his past timing, wishing his first love was the one wearing his ring, the onlookers brace for an explosive confrontation. Instead of tears or rage, she calmly removes her wedding ring, offering a warm smile and a sincere blessing for their future family. This decisive act of letting go marks the end of her tolerance and the beginning of her freedom.

Chapters

Chapter 3

I pulled out the notebook from my nightstand, the one I kept for tracking my relationship.

I'd promised myself I'd forgive him 99 times, but on the hundredth, I'd be done for good.

Flipping through the pages, I saw the records had long surpassed 99.

I'd just been holding on for too long.

I closed the notebook, packed up my things, and left.

I had to give Jackson some credit.

He always complained about my stuff cluttering the house, so I kept a place of my own.

I used to live in the same neighborhood, but when that place was sold, I found a rental closer to work.

It was handy for when I had late nights and needed a break during the day.

Jackson never seemed to notice how few things I had.

He once looked at my nearly empty closet and said it was how a wife should be, minimal and not overly glamorous.

I glanced at his colorful shirts hanging in the closet and stayed silent.

My phone buzzed unexpectedly.

I thought it might be Jackson realizing I was missing, but it was a message from Rebecca.

Jackson was staying over at her place, with clothes scattered everywhere.

[Jackson was too tired, so he's sleeping here for now. Don't worry.]

Worry about what?

I looked at the corner of the bed, where Jackson's once-toned abs seemed like a distant memory.

When we were together, his six-pack was my favorite.

Now that even that was gone, there was nothing left to hold on to.

I lay exhausted on the bed, looking around at the cozy little home I'd created. I remembered when we first moved in.

He held me close and took in the room.

"We should put up our photos here and make a photo wall. You love the piano, so we'll get one and set it up in that corner. You can play, I'll sing. We'll snuggle up, drink some red wine, and watch movies…"

"Aurora, even if I can't give you much right now, believe me, when we have our own place, it'll be all your design. You'll decide everything. You're the heart of our home."

In that moment, surrounded by his love, I truly thought I'd found a place in his heart.

Maybe he really did love me then.

Maybe, if Rebecca hadn't returned, we could have had it all, dating, marriage, kids, a simple life together.

But sadly, none of that can be reclaimed.

Everything has changed.

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