My Wedding, My Ex-Husband's Funeral

If this were three months ago, before Kierra came back, there’s no way Carter would have made me wait like this. No matter how big a project his company closed, he would never have ignored me—no calls, no texts, no nothing.

But now? Now, everything’s changed.

Whenever Kierra’s around, it’s like I’m invisible. He picks fights over the smallest things, gives me the cold shoulder, and now? Now, he’s out drinking wine, celebrating with her, without thinking about how I feel.

And honestly, I’m done. I don’t want to talk to him anymore.

When Carter realized I wasn’t clinging to him or being cute like I used to, he pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to me with a casual shrug.

"This is for you. Open it. See if you like it."

Inside was a snowflake necklace studded with tiny diamonds. A snowflake.

I hated it.

Carter knew I couldn’t stand anything to do with snow. In the past, whenever it was my birthday, our anniversary, or even just a random occasion, he always got me things I loved. But ever since Kierra came back, he tried to make up with gifts every time we fought.

And every single time, they involved snow.

The first few times, I bit my tongue.

But tonight? Tonight, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I grabbed the necklace from his hand and tossed it straight into the trash.

And I didn’t hold back when I said it—loud enough for him to hear. "Carter, I hate snow the most."

He looked stunned, clearly thinking I was being ungrateful. His "humble gesture" of buying me gifts was clearly misunderstood.

Anger flashed across his face. He threw the box in his hand, and it hit a ceramic vase on the table. The vase shattered into pieces, flowers tumbling to the floor.

That vase. That damn vase...

We brought it back from Europe on our honeymoon. We’d placed it in our home five years ago.

And now? Now, it was shattered, broken into pieces—just like everything else.

The shards glittered under the harsh light above, sparkling almost blindingly.

I felt my eyes sting with tears. Five years of marriage, gone in an instant—shattered, just like that stupid vase.

I tried to hold it together, not wanting to break down. But looking at all the damage—the broken vase, the pieces everywhere—it was like a mirror reflecting the wreckage of our relationship.

I was about to start cleaning up the mess when Carter, unable to handle being ignored any longer, stormed over. He grabbed my arm and tried to yank me up.

But I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t prepared for him to jerk me like that, and I lost my balance.

I fell forward, my knees crashing onto the glass shards. The sharp pain shot through me as the pieces cut into my skin.

My blood—bright red—started dripping onto the floor, pooling in ugly, dark patches.

Seeing the blood seemed to snap him out of his anger. He rushed over, grabbed my hand, and lifted me into his arms, panic flooding his face.

"How could you be so careless?" he muttered, his voice tight. "Come on, let’s get you to the hospital and get that bandaged."

Careless? Seriously? It wasn’t my fault.

It was because he pulled me so forcefully in the first place that I ended up on the floor.

But I wasn’t in the mood to argue.

I just let him carry me to the car.

When he opened the passenger door, we both froze for a second.

On the passenger seat was a white blanket and a pillow. But what really caught my eye was the little white snowman ornament hanging from the rearview mirror.

Every single change—every little detail—screamed that he was living a life with someone else.

Carter quickly shut the passenger door and opened the back seat. He carefully placed me in the back, almost like that would somehow make everything okay.

"It’s on the way to the hospital," he said, his voice casual, like we were having a regular conversation. "Kierra’s place is on the way to ours. She hates the cold and is always making a fuss about it, so I’ve been driving her to and from work, letting her decorate the car."

He added, almost like an afterthought: "She’s still young. Don’t argue with her."

'Still young? Young enough to be drinking wine and celebrating with you?'

But I wasn’t angry anymore. I’d already made up my mind about this marriage. I was done.

"Don’t worry," I said, my voice cold. "I won’t argue. Just get me to the hospital, okay? Getting this bandaged is more important right now."

Carter stared at me, his eyes wide. He hadn’t seen me so calm and indifferent in months. He looked almost taken aback.

I sighed, a note of impatience creeping into my voice. "Can we just hurry up and go to the hospital? If you’re not going to drive, I’ll just take a cab myself."