Those photos—it took me two full hours to delete the last one.

Rain still hammered against the window. Inside, nothing but my own breathing broke the silence.

My eyelids grew heavier, and eventually I drifted off against the couch.

I didn't know how long I'd been out when I heard a key in the lock.

Before I was fully awake, cold arms wrapped around me.

A strange perfume invaded my senses, and I had to fight the urge to gag.

I shoved James away without a word.

"You reek. It's disgusting."

He went rigid, guilt flooding his face. He stumbled back a step.

"Scarlett, I'll shower right now. I'll wash it off, I promise."

He bolted for the bathroom. The water started running almost immediately.

I didn't watch him go. I just lifted my eyes to the window—lightning still tearing through the sky.

When he finally came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, he approached me with careful steps. His voice had that pleading edge.

"Scarlett, I'm clean now. No smell. Nothing."

I didn't respond.

"Scarlett, let's have a baby. What do you say?"

The phone on the coffee table buzzed.

The screen lit up—Michelle.

I only glanced at it, but I still caught the words.

James, the thunder is so loud. I'm scared all alone. Can you come over?

His gaze flickered. He reached over and turned the screen off.

He crouched down, took my hand, made his voice even softer.

"Scarlett, it's nothing important. Let's not talk about unpleasant things. I—"

The phone erupted again, vibrating nonstop.

The screen lit up, went dark, lit up again. Message after message.

James, I'm really scared. I think I hear footsteps outside.

James, where are you? Answer me!

Someone's knocking on my door. James, help me.

After that last one, the phone went dead silent.

James snatched it up. His fingers were shaking so badly he almost dropped it. He dialed her number instantly.

It was like he'd forgotten I existed. Forgotten that seconds ago he'd been promising me a baby, promising me a future.

He pressed the phone to his ear and shouted.

"Michelle! Pick up! Michelle!"

No answer. He didn't even finish dressing—just ran for the door barefoot.

Only at the entryway did he freeze, like something finally clicked.

Oh. Right. I was still sitting there.

He turned, glanced at me.

"Scarlett, something came up at work. I'll head over first. Get some sleep, don't wait up. I'll bring breakfast in the morning."

I didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared at the door after it closed, listening to the thunder grow louder.

A while later, my phone buzzed.

Michelle again. This time, just a photo.

James was on his knees, arms wrapped tight around her.

She was smirking at the camera.

See? He still came. He's holding me and crying so hard he's shaking.

I stared at that photo. Numb. Long-pressed the screen and saved it to the same album as all the others.

The rain fell all night. I just sat there on that couch, not moving, from dark until dawn.

When sunlight finally broke through the glass, the rain had stopped.

The clock on the wall ticked past eight in the morning.

I stood up and braced myself against the couch for a long moment before dragging the suitcase I'd packed ages ago out the door.

At the airport, I still had time before boarding. I found a quiet corner, opened the folder I'd prepared on my phone, and sent everything—videos, photos, screenshots proving James cheated and that Michelle knew exactly what she was doing—to every work email I could find for both of them.

The "sent successfully" notification popped up. Then I opened social media and uploaded it all: Michelle's high school bullying, those videos, everything.

The caption was four words:

"Locked together. Blessings."

I watched the notifications refresh, then pulled up my suitcase and walked toward the boarding gate.

After the plane took off, James's work group chat exploded.

At first, he swiped the notifications away impatiently—until that photo of him sobbing in Michelle's arms appeared. He froze.

Michelle grabbed his arm, screaming. "It has to be Scarlett. She sent it. She's insane! James, do something!"

But James looked like every drop of blood in his body had turned to ice.

He suddenly remembered the night we first got together. I'd stood on tiptoe, hooked my arms around his neck, and told him: "James Vance, if you ever betray me, I'll dump you so hard—then I'll make sure the whole world knows you're a scumbag."

Back then, he'd laughed it off. Pulled me into his arms. Said he never would. Not in this lifetime.

Now every word had come true.

He finally understood. I wasn't throwing a tantrum. I wasn't waiting to be coaxed.

I was done.

"No way..."

His face went white as paper.