The Last Divorce

I've been married to Ryland Webster for eight years. In that time, we got divorced nine times.

I met every woman he dated after our wedding. Whenever he grew tired of someone and wanted out, I became his favorite excuse.

"If you marry him, you'll end up like me," I told them. "Cleaning up his messes, signing divorce papers over and over, and walking away with nothing."

On New Year's Eve, I sat beside another woman he'd abandoned, handing her tissues as she cried.

Across the city, Ryland was setting off a fireworks display for his newest girlfriend.

As I watched her sob through an entire box of tissues, I saw a younger version of myself.

For the first time, I asked Ryland for a divorce. He looked genuinely confused.

"We'll be remarried in three days," he said. "Do we really need to go through this again?"

I smiled and shook my head.

No.

Not this time.

Ryland, I'm done waiting for you.

The news that Ryland Webster was putting on a fireworks show for New Year's Eve had taken the entire city of Kingsley by storm.

I was the last person to hear about it.

Everyone in Kingsley knew he was a notorious playboy. He'd even divorced me nine times over one girlfriend after another.

But a grand, public declaration of love like this? That was a first.

I stared at the mockup one of the event staff had sent over.

The words RYLAND ♥ JASMINE spelled out across the fireworks display. The sight stung my eyes.

I locked my phone and turned back to the task in front of me, picking up the pace.

"Cash, a house, a car, a yacht. Take your pick. As long as—"

"I don't want any of it!"

Before I could finish, the girl sniffled and cut me off through tears.

I'd heard those same words far too many times before. Numb to it by now, I looked at her and said calmly, "I don't love him. And you'd be better off not falling in love with him either. Someone like Ryland isn't worth it."

The first few statements were only half true.

The last one, though? I meant it with all my heart. I genuinely wanted to stop another girl from making the same mistake.

I genuinely understood that Ryland wasn't worth loving.

The girl froze for a moment, then bit her lip and shot back bitterly, "Not worth it? Then why have you stayed with him for eight years? He's divorced you so many times. Why didn't you leave him?"

I fell silent. The words that usually came so easily suddenly refused to leave my mouth.

Yeah. Why hadn't I?

Maybe because when I was eight years old, my stepmother locked me in an attic for three days and three nights.

Ryland had been the one who ignored everyone trying to stop him and rushed in to save me.

I still remembered how badly he'd been beaten afterward. He'd been beaten until his skin split open, yet he still smiled as he wiped away my tears while saying, "As long as you're okay."

Later, when I failed my college entrance exams and ended up attending a different university from him, he crossed half the country every month just to see me and remind me to eat properly, simply because he worried I wouldn't be taking care of myself.

Warm tears welled up in my eyes as I turned toward the window to hide them.

The reflection staring back at me looked remarkably similar to the girl beside me.

Suddenly, I remembered what it was about her that had felt so familiar when we'd first met.

For the longest time, I couldn't place it. Now I know. The person she reminded me of was me—the younger version of myself, whose eyes had once been full of love, the girl who never grew tired, never backed down, and only knew how to love with her whole heart.

However, that version of me was gone now, and in the end, she'd gotten nothing.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Just then, my phone screen lit up again. It was a text from Ryland.

[Hurry up. The party's about to start.]

I knew he was getting impatient, which meant tonight's negotiation had to end now.

I quickly slid the contract across the table.

"Sign it. If you don't, they'll make you sign it anyway."

The girl still looked reluctant at first, but when she saw the number written in the agreement, she hesitated only briefly before signing her name.

When she left, she was smiling, nothing like the devastated girl who had walked in earlier.

See?

She wasn't really like me after all.