Chapter 1My husband could NEVER remember our address. Three years married. His default shipping address? Still his ex-girlfriend's place.
The microwave I ordered? Went to her. "Hers broke anyway, so..."
My anniversary gift? She signed for it. "Too awkward to ask for it back."
My Valentine's Day roses? Delivered to her door. "Can't give you secondhand flowers. She can keep them."
This time it was the Father's Day grill set. I reminded him TWO WEEKS ahead.
Still went to her.
I didn't yell. "Go get it back. Now."
He looked at me like I was crazy. "She already opened it. We'll just grab something on the way."
"Go. Get. It. Back."
He snapped. "Can you STOP being so dramatic? You're the only one making this a big deal."
Every single time his packages went to her, I told him to get them back.
Every single time, same answer.
He slammed the door.
I stood there staring at that door.
Three years of this shit.
That was it.
I called my lawyer. Started the divorce papers.
He wanted to keep playing Santa for his ex?
Fine.
I'd ship him right back to her.
---
I grabbed a last-minute gift and drove to my parents' by myself.
They looked confused.
"Where's Blake? I thought he was coming?"
"Did you guys fight or something?"
I forced a smile. "His boss called. Last-minute thing. Sorry."
Dad shrugged. "Work's work. We get it."
But I wasn't really listening. I was looking at my phone.
Seren just posted.
"He's so sweet. Best Father's Day ever."
The grill set I spent two weeks researching? Unwrapped. Set up on her counter.
One of the photos showed someone's hands putting it together. Long fingers. That scar on the right thumb.
I knew those hands.
Blake's hands.
And his wedding ring? Gone. Not even a tan line.
Our friends were already commenting.
"You two should just get married already!"
I liked the post.
Two seconds later, Blake texted me.
[Are you serious right now? You kick me out and then like Seren's post? You're embarrassing me.]
Every single word was blaming me.
I didn't get it. Liking a post = starting drama? How?
And the way he texted her name. "Seren." Soft. Sweet.
Me? "Jordyn." Cold. Annoyed.
I told him once it bothered me. He shrugged. "It's just a name. Why do you care so much?"
I scrolled up through our messages.
[Where's the boba? It's been two hours. Did the driver get lost or something?]
[Oh shit, forgot to change the address. It went to Seren's.]
[Can you just change the damn address already? And delete hers?]
[It's one drink. Why are you making this a huge deal? Just order another one.]
But he was the one who said he'd get it for me. I waited two hours. For nothing.
I kept scrolling.
[It's almost midnight. Where's the surprise you said you'd get me for Valentine's?]
[Sent it to Seren by mistake. I'll get you something next time.]
I don't even remember when this started.
But now? Every conversation was about this.
Packages going to the wrong address. Food showing up at someone else's door.
We agreed last year we'd spend Father's Day at my parents' this year.
He sent my dad's gift to Seren. Then drove to her place and spent the day with her.
I stared at that photo. His ring finger. Bare. Nothing there.
God, how stupid was I?
Maybe those "wrong addresses"? Never accidents.
Maybe she was always the one he meant to send things to.
And I was the mistake.
My phone buzzed. My lawyer.
[Hi Jordyn. Divorce papers are ready.]
I said bye to my parents and drove home. Printed everything out.
I was about to sign when Blake came in.
He walked over with two shopping bags.
"Look, it's just a grill set. You can get those anywhere. She already opened it, so whatever. But I did go back and get the clothes for your parents."
"I messed up, okay? Let me take you to that French place tonight. I'll make it right."
I didn't say anything.
That grill set? I spent two weeks looking for it. There's literally one store that sells it. One.
And I didn't tell him—again—that I hate French food.
I've said it like a hundred times.
But he doesn't listen.
So what's the point? He'll just go, "Why is everything such a big deal with you?"
Whatever.
Chapter 2
I opened the bags.
Already ripped open. Tags gone. Disgusting dried rice stuck to the beige pants.
Perfect. Can't return them now.
I stared at that stain. Three years. That's my marriage.
"Who opened these?"
Blake looked away. "Seren did. She thought I got them for her."
"So she opened them, got them dirty, and now you're giving them to my parents?"
He got pissed immediately.
"They're already open! What do you want from me? I can't take them back."
"Your parents can wear them. No one else wants them anyway."
"You don't want them? Throw them away. I don't care."
No one else.
Yeah. I knew who he meant.
Seren's parents couldn't fit into them. Only reason I'm even seeing these.
Otherwise? He would've let her keep them. Just like everything else.
I shoved the clothes back in the bag. "You deal with it."
Then turned to go. He grabbed my arm.
"Can we not do this? I booked that place to apologize."
He pulled me out the door.
But when we got there, someone was already at our table.
Seren.
Cocktail dress. Strappy heels. Full makeup. Hair perfect.
Me? Oversized T-shirt. Jeans. Hair in a claw clip.
Looked like I crashed their date.
Blake in his button-down next to Seren? They looked like a couple.
I looked like the third wheel.
Blake pulled out a chair for me.
"Seren couldn't go home today. She's been dying to try this place, so I figured we'd all go together."
"She's young, you know. Cut her some slack."
I looked at him.
Before we got married, he said Seren was six months older than me.
Now he's calling her "young." Telling me to cut her slack.
Did he forget? Or does he just not care?
He didn't remember I hate French food.
But he remembered Seren's been dying to try this place.
Who was this reservation really for?
I didn't ask. What's the point?
I sat across from them. Watched them lean over the menu together like I wasn't even there.
"You love macarons. Let's get some."
"I remember. Two orders."
"The escargot looks good."
"I knew it! Best in the city."
When they finally gave the menu back, they remembered I was there.
Blake cleared his throat. "We got enough for three."
Seren smiled. "Sorry, Jordyn. Blakey and I get so into food talk, we totally forget."
Blakey.
She still calls him that.
Five years together. They broke up six years ago.
The way she said his name. Soft. Familiar.
He's totally fine with it.
I said it once as a joke. He looked at me like I was crazy.
"Don't. That's so weird. You're giving me chills."
Food started coming.
Escargot. Foie gras. Oysters. Mussels. Poached salmon.
I stared at the table. Didn't touch anything.
Seren lit up with every dish. Gasping. Grabbing her fork. Like a kid at Christmas.
Blake cut up foie gras and put it on her plate.
She didn't even ask.
"Thank you!"
Then he looked at me. Frowned. "Your salmon's here. Why aren't you eating?"
"I'm allergic to seafood."
He froze.
Then he looked annoyed.
"I didn't remember. Why didn't you say something?"
"There's other stuff. Just eat the steak tartare."
I don't eat raw meat. He used to know that.
Don't know when he forgot.
I stood up. Left.
Behind me, Seren's voice. "Is she upset?"
Blake's answer was quiet. Sharp. "She always does this. Ruins everything. Ignore her."
I walked out. Got an Uber. Went home.
This time, I didn't make excuses.
I emailed my resignation that night. Started packing.
Chapter 3
I started with the study.
Blake's job kept him on-site. The study was basically mine. My books. My sketches. My notebooks.
Halfway through packing, Blake came home.
He was smiling. Then he saw me. Smile gone.
He looked disappointed.
"Jordyn. What is your problem? You've been starting shit all day. Making everyone miserable."
"You happy now?"
I didn't even look up.
"Blake. I want a divorce."
Just then, his phone rang.
Seren's ringtone. That bright, cheerful tune.
Blake's phone was always on default. He said he was too lazy to change anything.
Except Seren. She got her own ringtone.
Three years married. He'd gotten three new phones.
Every time, first thing he did? Set her ringtone.
I asked him once.
He said, "I've had this since college. I'm used to it."
Later I found out. It was always hers.
I watched him answer. Didn't hesitate.
Didn't even hear what she said. Already heading for the door.
"Don't worry. I'm on my way."
The door slammed.
He didn't hear me say "divorce."
Or maybe he did. Didn't care.
I stood there in the empty living room.
Maybe this marriage was a mistake from day one.
Seren's ringtone.
Her address saved as home for three years straight.
Every gift I bought, every surprise I planned—he gave it all to her.
Blake wasn't even trying to hide it.
And what did I do? Made excuses. Told myself he'd change. Kept waiting for him to notice me.
Nothing changed.
Three years. Wasted. I was the punchline.
I finished packing up the study and went to wash up.
Almost 1 a.m. when Blake finally texted.
[Something came up with Seren. Staying at her place tonight.]
I didn't reply. Just locked my phone and went to bed.
The next day, I kept packing.
I didn't realize it before, but packing everything up? It hit me.
Three years. Every time he sent something to her by accident, I just stopped buying that stuff.
Matching slippers. Matching pajamas. Little plants. Cute stuff for the place.
Those two electric toothbrushes on the bathroom counter? Ugly cheap ones. Total crap.
I spent weeks looking up the perfect toothbrushes before we got married. Was gonna order them, but Blake said he'd do it.
They went to Seren's.
I told him to get them back. He wouldn't.
So I went to the drugstore pissed off and grabbed two crappy ones. Put a sticker on mine so we wouldn't mix them up.
I wouldn't buy new ones.
Figured if he had to look at those ugly toothbrushes every day, maybe he'd feel bad. Maybe he'd finally get the ones I wanted.
That toothbrush? They've updated it three times since then.
We're still using the cheap ones.
I stared at them.
Then grabbed both and tossed them in the trash.
By the time I finished packing, Blake called.
"Hey, I got that bonus today. The guys won't let me off the hook—gotta take everyone out."
"You should come. Texting you the address."
I was about to say no.
Then he said, "My parents are coming too. Don't be late."
I stopped. Didn't say anything. Let him hang up.
If I'm really doing this, I should tell his parents to their face.
After the movers took everything, I took one last look at the apartment we'd lived in for three years.
Didn't feel anything.
I left.
