He Watched the Stars With Her, So I Signed the Divorce Chapter 10

He Watched the Stars With Her, So I Signed the Divorce Chapter 10

One year later, the public exhibition of marine archives opened.

One gallery featured a Message Wall displaying notes exchanged between oceanographic research

crews and their families.

One note read, [The seas are rough tonight. Don’t worry about me.]

Another read, [Come home safe. I’ll have your favorite pot roast waiting.]

On an old note stained and blurred by seawater, only two words remained legible.

[Stay safe.]

The organizers invited me to speak.

I stood onstage and spoke about the responsibility carried by every message and about the people waiting on the other end, who should never be treated as an afterthought.

Every exchange was more than a technical connection. It was a response someone had trusted us to

give.

The audience listened in complete silence.

When I finished, Daniel handed me a bottle of water.

“That was an excellent speech.”

I smiled.

“I didn’t embarrass you lawyers, did I?”

He smiled too.

“You never needed anyone else to make you look good.”

Ryan stood in a corner of the gallery.

He wore ordinary work clothes, with no shipboard communications insignia on his chest

His hair was shorter, and he seemed quieter than he once had.

I walked directly past him without slowing down.

An anonymous card had been pinned to the Message Wall.

[I hope every message you send from now on reaches someone who treasures it.]

¡ recognized Ryan’s handwriting.

Daniel looked at me.

“Do you want me to ask the staff to take it down?”

I shook my head. It did not bother me that much.

“No. The exhibition welcomes messages from everyone.”

The past itself cannot hurt you.

What hurts is refusing to leave it in the past.

Claire arrived that afternoon as well.

Security stopped her outside the gallery.

A staff member later told me she had tried to film content so she could capitalize on the

exhibition’s publicity. Even as security escorted her away, she continued insisting that she was a

marine documentary filmmaker too.

Ryan saw the scene from a short distance away and did not speak up for her.

He simply stood there, having finally learned that someone else’s needs did not justify breaking

every rule.

After the exhibition closed for the day, my parents came to pick me up.

My mother carried a bouquet of small daisies, and my father held an insulated food carrier.

“We made your favorite dinner at home.”

I accepted the flowers and breathed in their faint, fresh scent.

“So no catering to anyone else’s tastes tonight?”

My father gave a dismissive snort.

“Not tonight. Nobody else gets a vote.”

We walked outside together.

As we passed through the glass doors, I did not look toward the pier.

Ryan stood near the gallery entrance, watching us from a distance.

A phone was clutched in his hand.

One of my coworkers later told me that the final message I had ever sent him a single perind was still saved on his phone.

Only at the end did he understand that I had not stopped loving him all at once

Every unanswered message had worn away a little more of that love.

Eventually, there was none left.

On the drive home, my mother asked, “What are you planning to do next?”

I watched the coastline pass outside the window.

“I’ll finish taking the exhibition on tour, then apply for the next project.”

My father’s eyes widened.

“You’re going abroad again?”

“Maybe. I might stay here instead. It depends on what the project needs.”

My mother reached over and touched my hand.

“Wherever you go, remember to come home.”

I nodded.

My phone chimed with a message from the new project team.

Coworker: [Emma, can you confirm tomorrow’s meeting time?]

I replied: [Nine a.m. I’ll be there.]

A string of acknowledgments appeared almost immediately.

I placed the phone back in my purse.

Outside the window, some ships were arriving while others headed out to sea.

This time, I was not waiting for anyone.

I had made it safely to shore on my own.