Chapter 4

The accident was brutal, but I was lucky—just a broken left leg.

When the truck tipped over and came crashing toward me, I thought I was going to die.

But somehow, fate decided to spare me.

As I lay in the hospital, Ethan texted me.

“Why are you standing me up? You’ve ruined my chance to show up with the divorce papers and finally see Summer without guilt.”

I stared at his cold, emotionless words, and surprisingly, I smiled.

Once I’d made the decision to let go, these words, which would’ve shattered me before, now felt like nothing more than a breeze in passing.

I looked at his name pinned at the top of my messaging app. The chat history was pristine—completely empty. He had never initiated a conversation with me, not even once. And I, well, I had learned to be “considerate.” I didn’t bother him with texts, only calling when absolutely necessary.

Even then, I used to feel a strange satisfaction just seeing his name at the top of my screen whenever I opened the app.

But now, things were different.

Scrolling through my feed, I saw his most recent post: a nine-photo collage of a candlelit dinner. Two hands intertwined under the warm glow of the candles, their matching couple rings sparkling as though they were stars themselves.

It was the kind of romance I’d never had with him.

Once, I had suggested buying wedding rings for us. He had frowned and flatly refused, saying he wasn’t comfortable wearing “extraneous things.”

Yet here he was, proudly wearing a couple’s ring.

But I had no right to question him. No right to ask why.

I glanced at the divorce papers sitting on the bedside table. Without hesitation, I signed them, sealed them in an envelope, and mailed them to Ethan.

The nurse knocked softly on my door.

“Miss Lane, your discharge papers are ready.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I had spent two weeks in the hospital. During that time, Ethan hadn’t called, hadn’t visited, hadn’t even asked where I was.

I should’ve felt devastated, but instead, I felt a strange sense of relief.

I packed my things and glanced at my phone one last time, still open to our empty chat. I didn’t hesitate this time.

I blocked him.

Before I hit “confirm,” I typed one final message: “Ethan, goodbye forever.”