When she rose from her chair in her glittering sequined gown, pearls gleaming against her throat, every conversation in the room quieted. In one manicured hand, she held a pearl-white envelope tied with a silver ribbon.
“From all of us,” she announced sweetly, her voice ringing across the room.
I reached for the envelope, still hoping—despite everything—that maybe, just maybe, after years of cold stares and polite dismissals, this might be the moment Vivian finally accepted me.
I broke the ribbon.
The air shifted.
Inside weren’t birthday wishes or a card. They were divorce papers.
The bold words—Petition to Dissolve Marriage—blurred for half a second as my breath caught.
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