Six Years Trapped In A Broken Vow

er blow, shattering the last vestiges of our shared past, but also forging a path to m

" I said, my voice

who was incapable of understanding what he was

that marked the start of the 30-day waiting period. It was done. The first step was taken. Then I br

His brow furrowed. "It's... different," he said, his voice h

s dreaming, sketching out floor plans for our future home. A cozy, inviting space filled with w

furniture together, debated over paint swatches, and celebrated every small addition to ou

, purged our shared aesthetic. His taste had shifted, mirroring his affections. My vibrant paintings, once proudly d

ear, for my birthday, he gave me a dozen lilies. Beautiful, expensive. But I was severely allergic to lilies. The flowers had sat on the

ick them out. Can't you just appreciate the thought instead of being so difficult?" He'd spent the entire drive to the hospital on the phone, soothing a tear

ally harm myself to spite Faye. The man I loved, the man who had once memorized every one of my allergies, had forgotten it

e angular furniture. He gently ran his hand over a cold, metal sculpture. "This isn't us

ht. Someon

eyes widened as he saw the picture of the smiling woman, her arm linked casually with his future self. Then he s

ed the cold, decorative objects and stacked them neatly, almost reverently, by the door. He even found the vase from the lily incident, still tucked away in a cupboard, and discard

noon sun streaming through the newly cleared windows, bat

eyes filled with a renewed determination. "Let's go. Let's finis

Chase." His eagerness, his desire to help, was a

elt miles away from the master bedroom. "You can stay her

with that curious, slightly sad

weight of Chase's presence, the older Chase, felt lifted. The air felt lighter. I lay down on the bed, my body aching with a exhaustion

ell into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was the kind of s

through the curtains, soft and inviting. I stretched, a forgotten luxury,

d a medical report, its pages crinkled, as if he had been holding it for hours. His eyes, swollen and red, met min

ly a rasp, thick with unshed t

port from the car accident. The one that detailed the misc

us... when she took everything from you?" He took a step forward, his eyes blazing, not w

exposed. And I knew, in that moment, he wouldn't just be signing pap

into my throat. There, framed in the doorway, stood the 28-year-old Chase. His eyes, cold and calculating,

venom. He took a step into the room, his eyes narrowed, his gaze burni

Polla