As the sun began to crawl over the horizon, Marc finally stood up. The fury hadn't left him, but it had settled into a cold, hard stone in his gut. He realized that by wishing her "hell on earth," he was still tied to her. He was standing at the gates of that very hell, holding the key.
"I wish you hell on earth," he whispered into the empty room. As the sun began to crawl over the
In his mind, he saw her new life. He imagined her waking up in a different bed, laughing at different jokes. He wanted those laughs to turn into ashes. He wanted her to walk through a crowded room and feel a loneliness so profound it made her knees weak. He wanted her to look at her new lover and see only the ghost of the man she had betrayed. He was standing at the gates of that
The rain lashed against the windows of the small apartment, but Marc didn’t hear it. The only sound echoing in his mind was the click of the front door closing—the final sound of Sarah leaving. He imagined her waking up in a different
For three years, she had been his world. He had given her everything: his trust, his time, and a version of himself he didn't show anyone else. Then, in a single, cold afternoon, she had traded it all for someone new. No apologies, no tears—just a suitcase and a "life goes on."
He picked up the photo, took it to the bin, and let it go. If she was going to find hell, she would have to find the way there without him.