“I booked another trip to the Maldives for you using our joint account. Same resort. Same room. Non-refundable. In your name.”
His eyes lit up briefly before narrowing suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”
“Same dates,” I continued. “But next month. In the middle of hurricane season.”
His face darkened and he understood.
A stunned man stands on the lawn in front of his house | Source: Midjourney
I’ve never been to the Maldives. Jeff ruined everything for me.
Instead, I’m writing these lines from a deckchair in Greece. The sea is warm. The wine is cold. Ava is next to me, flirting with the waiter who brings us fresh fruit every hour.
“To new beginnings,” he said, raising his glass.
“And for better purposes,” I replied.
View of a yacht on the ocean | Source: Pexels
Sometimes, revenge isn’t a flame. It’s freedom. It’s realizing that the burden you’ve carried for 25 years wasn’t actually yours.
But let’s be honest: the view is better without this dead weight pulling you down.
The Mediterranean is bluer than I ever imagined the Maldives could be. My physiotherapist says swimming is great for muscle recovery.
