After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 08

After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 08

The buzz lasted for a week. 

My “Drop Your Ex Baggage Combo” became the market’s 

signature. 

People drove across town just to buy one. 

Some came the day they got dumped, ate the hot dog, and 

cried while Venmo–ing me, saying the fifteen dollars was 

more accurate than a Tarot reading. 

Others brought their current partners, saying it was a “preventative measure“. 

I couldn’t keep up, so I hired a part–timer. 

Her name was Daisy. She was a fresh college grad, 

quick–witted and sharp–tongued. By the first day, she’d made 

the menu even more savage. 

The Drop Your Ex Baggage Combo. 

The Ex–Is–Zombified Combo. 

The No More Mother in Law Drama Combo. 

The Delusion Detox Combo. 

The best–seller was definitely the Delusion Detox Combo. 

It came with a super–iced lemon tea and a card. 

The card read: 

[If he isn’t replying to your text, it’s not because his phone exploded. He just doesn’t want to reply.) 

I stared at the words, silent for a long time. 

“Is it not harsh enough, boss?” Daisy asked. 

“No,” I said. “It’s so harsh that if I were ten years younger, I’d 

be bawling my eyes out.” 

She grinned. “Then it means it’s working.” 

I smiled, too. 

That night, after we closed, Daisy suddenly looked toward the 

distance. 

“Boss, why is the ex–husband back again?” 

I followed her gaze. 

Julian was standing under a streetlamp. Beside him was a 

woman. 

It wasn’t Victoria. It wasn’t Chloe. 

She was wearing a pale dress, hair flowing over her shoulders, standing in front of him with red–rimmed eyes. 

I knew that face. 

Abby Curtin. 

Julian’s childhood sweetheart. 

For the three years I was married to him, she was the ghost 

that haunted me—a constant, nagging ache in my heart. 

The year she moved abroad, Julian got drunk and stood on the balcony all night. 

When I asked him if he was cold, he said, “She’s out there all by herself. She must be colder.” 

Later, we got married. 

Abby would text him on every holiday. 

“Julian, I dreamed about when we were kids again.” 

“Julian, would your wife mind if I sent you a gift?” 

“Julian, it’s snowing here. I suddenly feel so homesick.” 

I had minded. 

I’d fought. 

I’d cried. 

And Julian always said, “There’s nothing between us. It’s not easy for her out there.” 

That single phrase “nothing between us” always made me the villain. 

Now she was back. 

And she was standing right by my stand, talking to my ex–husband. 

Daisy’s eyes sparkled. “Boss, talk about a showdown.” 

I tossed an empty sauce bottle into the trash bag.” Not my circus, not my monkeys.” 

Before the words were even out, Abby turned to look at me. 

She gathered her courage and started walking toward me. 

Julian reached out to block her. 

She whispered something. 

His expression turned grim. 

I felt trouble coming. 

Sure enough, Abby stopped in front of my stand. Her opening line was: “Sadie, I’m sorry.” 

The night market was full of people who recognized Julian. 

Phones started coming out, recording the moment. 

kept my face blank. “And who are you?”