chill seeping right through my coat and into my bones. It felt just like the day Liam and I eloped ten years ag
is non-negotiable, Elara. I h
glass. No warmth. We had just filed for divorce. Thir
more than the house I grew up in. I reached out, my fin
ou just... d
per. He pulled his arm away lik
learn to stan
old, wet pavement. The promise he made when he put a ring on my finger echoed in
ss men in expensive suits. And me? I was the forgotten indie musician from Austin,
y tomb. For the last four years, Liam had been a ghost, a presence I felt more than saw. He often didn't co
rom MD Anderson. Stag
ltrasound photo. T
took them to the fireplace. I lit a match and watched my sec
a long shot. A young, syrupy voice answered, a vo
hone, who
ame so casually felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. In that single, gut-wrenching moment, my despair
e phone, his voice annoyed,
contesting
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