“I’m sorry! I was upset. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Well,” I said, rising slowly to my feet, “I am.”
I handed him one last envelope.
“What’s this?” he asked, his voice suddenly wary.
“A gift,” I said.
“I booked you another tip to the Maldives using our joint account. Same resort. Same room. Non-refundable. Under your name.”
His eyes lit up briefly before narrowing with suspicion. “Why would you do that?”
“Same dates,” I continued. “But next month. The middle of hurricane season.”
His face fell as understanding dawned.
I never did visit the Maldives. Jeff ruined it for me.
Instead, I’m writing this from a lounge chair in Greece. The sea is warm. The wine is cold. Ava’s beside me, flirting with the waiter who brings us fresh fruit every hour.
“To new beginnings,” she says, raising her glass.
“And better endings,” I reply.
Sometimes, revenge isn’t fire. It’s freedom. It’s learning that the weight you’ve been carrying for 25 years wasn’t yours to bear in the first place.
But let’s be honest: the view looks better without dead weight dragging you under.
The Mediterranean is bluer than I ever imagined the Maldives could be. My physical therapist says swimming is excellent for muscle recovery.
So Jeff — cheers to you.
Thanks for teaching me how to walk again. Just not in the way you expected.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
