He Erased Me From The Photo I Erased Him From My Life Chapter 16
Three days after I moved into the new apartment, a package arrived for me at work.
It was from a Chicago law firm, with Owen Mercer listed as the client.
I broke the seal.
On top was an itemized list of damages: the cost of replacing the property papers, penalty fees for the delayed closing, additional travel expenses, and my mother’s interim care costs.
Beneath it lay a check, the amount matching the total loss down to the last cent.
Beside it was a thick envelope with my name written in Owen’s handwriting. The attorney’s cover letter noted that it contained a letter of apology.
I didn’t open it.
I called my lawyer. “The check can be deposited. Please confirm the funds clear. Beyond that, no response is necessary.”
After I hung up, I put the check and the financial statement back into the courier envelope and handed it to our mailroom assistant.
The letter remained on my desk.
The old me might have read every word, dissecting each sentence, wondering which lines were sincere and which were just belated guilt.
Now, I picked up the envelope, walked over to the office shredder, and fed it into the slot.
The paper vanished between the blades, Owen’s handwriting disappearing into a confetti of thin, meaningless strips.
The money was compensation for a financial loss. It had nothing to do with forgiveness, and it certainly had nothing to do with love.
It wasn’t a sign of closure.
It was simply proof that the choice I had once made was wrong—and the one I was making now was right.