After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 05

After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 05

I stared at the slip of paper. 

Suddenly, I lost the urge to humiliate him. 

I threw the pen back into the box. “Not selling anymore.” 

Julian looked up. “Why?” 

“I’m afraid you’ll buy yourself into bankruptcy.” 

I flipped the sign on my stand to Closed. 

“Closing early today.” 

Victoria sneered. “Playing the high and mighty card? Trying to make Julian regret everything, aren’t you? Sadie, I’ve seen your type plenty of times when I was younger.” 

I stopped packing. 

“Victoria.” 

I turned to look at her. 

“What exactly did you see when you were younger? Was it women who swallowed their pride and suffered in silence, or 

was it men who screwed up while women were forced to play the ‘graceful‘ role?” 

Victoria’s face turned ghastly. 

“I didn’t divorce Julian to make him regret anything.” 

“I did it so I could actually live.” 

“The past three years with your family taught me one thing.” 

“I can’t rely on someone else’s conscience.” 

“Because some people simply don’t have one.” 

I folded the collapsible table shut. 

Chloe tried to say something, but Julian stopped her. 

His voice was low. “Mom, Chloe. Let’s go.” 

“I’m not leaving!” Chloe panicked. “Julian, are you just going 

to watch her bully us like this?” 

Julian looked at her. “I watched her get bullied by you for years, didn’t I?” 

Chloe stood there with her mouth agape, unable to find a word. 

Victoria looked like she’d just been slapped in public. 

But the one who actually hurt was me. 

Delayed justice is like candy left out too long. 

The sweetness is gone. It’s just hard and cold, enough to chip a 

tooth. 

I kept pushing my cart along. 

Julian followed me. 

The streetlights were busted near the end of the market. 

My wheel hit a pothole, and the cart nearly tipped over. 

He reached out to steady it. 

flinched away immediately. 

“Don’t touch.” 

His hand hung in mid–air before he pulled it back. 

“I’ll walk you home.” 

“No need.” 

“The cart is heavy.” 

“I carried the weight of our divorce papers just fine.” 

He didn’t say anything else. 

But he still followed, keeping a two–step distance. 

I was so annoyed I stopped and turned around. 

“Julian, what exactly do you want?” 

He stared at me. “To compensate you.” 

“Compensate me for what? The three years? The grief your family gave me? The time I was running a 104–degree fever 

while you were out at a business dinner calling me 

‘dramatic‘?” 

“Or the time on my birthday when your mom threw my cake in the trash and you told me not to make a big deal out of it?” 

With every word I spoke, his expression darkened. 

But I felt calmer with every sentence. 

“Or maybe the day we got divorced, when I asked if you had even an ounce of regret?” 

“You said adults should be ‘graceful‘.” 

Julian flinched, as if he’d been struck. 

I smiled. “Julian, I’m being incredibly graceful right now.” 

“I have a business, I’m making money, and I have a line of 

people waiting to buy my food.” 

“The biggest compensation you could give me is staying the 

hell away.” 

He was silent for a long time. 

Then he said, “Okay.” 

I was stunned. 

He took a step back. 

“I won’t bother you anymore.” 

At that moment, I didn’t feel relieved. 

I just felt how absurd it all was. 

The most pathetic thing about people is that they only learn to respect you when you finally stop wanting them to. 

I pushed my cart to the end of the alley. 

He didn’t follow. 

But the next day, there was a massive line in front of my stand. 

Julian wasn’t in it. 

It was a crowd of young girls and a few heartbroken guys. 

They held up their phones and asked, “Owner, is the ex–husband coming today?” 

I twitched my lips. “No.” 

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” 

I handed a hot dog to one of them. “Fun doesn’t fill your 

stomach, but hot dogs do.” 

The business was insane. 

From six in the evening until eleven, my hands barely stopped 

moving. 

Millie, the girl from the lemon tea stand, helped me pack as she worked. “Sadie, you’re officially a star.” 

I didn’t answer. 

The money kept rolling into my account. 

But I didn’t feel any lighter. 

I knew that fame comes fast, and trouble follows even faster. 

Sure enough, the third morning, before I even opened, my landlord called. 

“Ms. Sadie, you can’t set up that cart tonight.” 

I stopped folding the boxes. 

“Why?” 

The landlord stammered. “People complained. They said you’re ruining the environment and that the combo name is… inappropriate.” 

I gripped my phone. “Who complained?” 

“I can’t really say.” 

“Was it the Hollander family?” 

Silence on the other end.