After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 18

After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 18

Once I hung the menu on the door, the line started forming in 

less than ten minutes. 

Some were nursing broken hearts, some were divorced, some had just crawled out of a toxic mess. 

They bought a combo, took a bite of the hot dog, and teared up 

from the spice. 

Then, they held up the card and laughed. 

Watching them, I saw so many versions of my past self. 

The Sadie who washed dishes in her in–laws‘ kitchen. 

The Sadie who waited for a phone call in the hospital hallway. 

The Sadie who played the part of the ‘proper wife‘ at City Hall. 

The Sadie who pushed a heavy cart around the market selling 

“Boy, Bye” cards. 

They had walked a long road, covered in bruises and mess. 

But they hadn’t stopped. 

That night, after closing, my parents video–called. 

My dad asked, “How was business today?” 

I said, “Great.” 

My mom asked, “Did you eat?” 

I said, “I did.” 

My dad snorted. “Don’t lie to me. You always forget when 

you’re busy.” 

I laughed and turned the camera to the pies on the table. 

“I really did eat.” 

My mom nodded, satisfied. 

After the call ended, Millie brought over a lemon tea. 

“Sadie, let’s celebrate.” 

“Celebrate what?” 

“Your new combo is a total sell–out!” 

I took it and clinked glasses with her. 

The sweet and sour taste bloomed on my tongue. 

The market was loud. 

The voices, the laughter, the sound of sizzling oil, the ‘ping‘ of digital payments. 

Sounds that used to make me feel small and pathetic now sounded like the steady hum of life rolling forward. 

Before I locked the shop door, I took one last look at the card my dad had written. 

My daughter keeps moving forward. Good days, come on. 

I smiled and turned off the lights. 

The next morning, I opened the shop. 

No flowers at the door. 

No notes. 

No ex–husband. 

Only the sunlight of a new day, pouring in, clean and bright. 

Daisy came running over with the groceries, breathless. 

“Boss! There’s already a line outside!” 

I tied my apron and walked to the stove. 

The grill heated up, the coke buckets were set, and the ginger tea glimmered in the light. 

I picked up the first blank card. 

As the pen tip touched the paper, I remembered Julian asking 

me: 

“Do you regret the divorce?” 

I hadn’t answered him then. 

But now, the answer was right there on the card. 

I wrote it down, stroke by stroke: 

[No regrets.] 

[The bad people taught me to wake up, and the good ones brought me home.] 

[And as for me, I led my own rebirth.]