27 Calls 2 Wristbands 1 Empty Anniversary Chapter 06
I didn’t go home.
I met Lauren for afternoon drinks instead.
She looked surprised when I told her. “You chased him for two years. Gave him everything. I honestly thought you’d be stuck on him forever.”
Twenty-two-year-old Sophie probably couldn’t have imagined it either. Twenty-nine-year-old Sophie, voluntarily divorcing the man she’d loved so deeply.
Even a few days ago, divorce wasn’t on my radar.
But the word had always been there. Hanging over my head like a sword.
I’d always been terrified it would drop.
I was scared that if I said it, Julian would agree. No hesitation.
So even in our worst fights, even through his longest silences, I never said that word.
Now that I’d said it, all I felt was light.
No more trying to read Julian’s moods. No more crying alone at night. No more tasting heartbreak, over and over.
My marriage to Julian ran on fumes. Tiny scraps of sweetness.
I kept lying to myself. He has feelings for me. He must.
Why else would he ask me to be his girlfriend? Why else would he marry me?
And we did have happy moments. I remember them.
Looking back now, those moments were probably just crumbs he tossed me when he was in a good mood.
The bubble should’ve burst a long time ago.
I spent the whole afternoon with Lauren. Evening too—we hit a bar in the West Village and had a blast. I didn’t get home until after midnight.
I opened the door. Julian was sitting on the sofa.
I blinked. He’d never waited up for me before.
He smelled the alcohol on me. Frowned. Cold.
“Sophie, you’re out drinking in the middle of the night? Seriously.”
I felt a flicker of annoyance. We’re getting divorced. Why do you care?
“From now on, don’t talk to me unless it’s about the divorce.”
I headed for the bedroom.
He grabbed my wrist. Jaw tight.
“Even a tantrum has limits. Don’t push it.”
I stared at him. Genuinely confused.
“Who’s throwing a tantrum?”
“Look carefully. I already signed.”
Julian searched my face. Looking for a bluff. When he couldn’t find one, something in him shifted.
“Sophie, the Coachella thing was my fault. And I said some things I shouldn’t have the past few days. I’m sorry.”
I looked at him. Surprised.
Five years of marriage. That was the first time he’d said “sorry.”
We’d fought before. But Julian never apologized. At most, he’d send a gift or take me out to dinner. I’d take the hint and let it go. Both of us pretending the fight never happened.
The old me would’ve been moved. Finally. He’s changing.
Now, a late apology meant nothing.
I shook my head. Calm. “It’s useless, Julian. I’ve made up my mind.”