The night I took off my wedding dress, he suddenly changed his tune.
“This damn novel is finally over.”
“I never loved you.
“Now I can finally take control of my own fate.”
With that, he left the house.
But how could I tell him
that the novel had stopped updating long ago?
That we had made it this far
because we chose each other every time our hearts stirred,
and because we had both sincerely drawn closer to one another?
