After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 17

After Divorce, I Sold Anti-Ex Cards—He Bought Ten Chapter 17

I didn’t ask where he was going. 

He didn’t say, either. 

“I just came to say goodbye.” 

I nodded. “Safe travels.” 

He gave a small smile. 

It was faint, and laced with bitterness. 

“You can’t even be bothered to ask one extra question now, can you?” 

I looked at him. 

“Julian, this is how people drift apart.” 

“It’s not that they suddenly stop loving each other.” 

“It’s that you want to ask questions a hundred times, but eventually, you realize the answers don’t matter anymore.” 

His eyes reddened. 

The night breeze picked up, rattling the plastic sign on the food truck. 

After a long silence, he asked, “Was there ever a moment… where you thought about giving me another chance?” 

The question came too late. 

Too late for it to hurt anymore. 

I thought about it seriously. 

“Once.” 

His eyes sparked for a fraction of a second. 

I said, “The day you bought those first ten combos.” 

The light in his eyes vanished. 

“Back then, I thought, ‘If you had just humbled yourself like this sooner, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up here.“” 

“But then I realized something else.” 

“I didn’t want you to humble yourself.” 

“I wanted you to look up and see me when I was hurting.” 

He stood there, unable to say a word. 

I kept going. “Julian, I don’t hate you anymore.” 

“Hate is exhausting.” 

“But I don’t want to love you, either.” 

“Loving you was even more exhausting.” 

His eyes finally brimmed with tears. 

I didn’t try to comfort him. 

The best ending for us was to stop draining each other. 

He pulled a crumpled greeting card from his pocket. 

It was the very first version. 

Boy, Bye. 

The edges were worn thin, as if it had been opened and folded 

a thousand times. 

“I’ve kept this one with me.” 

I took a glance. 

“That’s good.” 

He asked, “Good for what?” 

I laughed. 

“To remind you how to act like a decent human being.” 

He laughed, too. 

But his eyes were watery. 

“Sadie.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I hope your business keeps booming.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I hope you’re happy every day.” 

“Thanks for that, too.” 

“I hope…” 

He paused for a long time. 

“…you meet someone else. Someone who doesn’t make you 

feel like you have to be the ‘mature‘ one.” 

My chest gave a tiny jolt. 

That wish felt more like a final farewell than any apology. 

I looked at him and finally gave a sincere reply. 

“I hope for the same for you.” 

“Next time you love someone, don’t wait until you’ve lost 

them to learn how.” 

Julian nodded. 

He turned and walked into the night. 

This time, he didn’t look back. 

And neither did I. 

The next day, Daisy asked, “Boss, the ex–husband is really gone?” 

I was writing a new card. 

“Gone.” 

“Are you sad?” 

“No.” 

She didn’t believe me. “Not even a little?” 

I handed the written card to a customer. The customer read it, smiled, and thanked me. 

It read: 

[Ex–partners, begone. Wallet, overflowing.] 

I wiped my hands and looked out the shop door. 

The sunlight hit the sign. 

Sadie’s Stand glowed so brightly it was almost blinding. 

I said, “Daisy, I didn’t lose him.” 

“I just finally found myself.” 

She went quiet for a moment, then beamed. 

“Boss, any new combos on the menu today?” 

“Yep.” 

“What’s it called?” 

I picked up my pen and wrote at the top of the new menu. 

The “No Looking Back” Combo. 

It came with: 

A hot dog, for what’s gone. 

A diet coke, for the clear head. 

A handwritten card, for the person I am becoming. 

Daisy leaned in. “What does the card say?” 

I thought about it, and let the pen hit the paper. 

Don’t look back. 

There’s no answer behind you.