The Same Wedding Dress, Two Different Brides Chapter 11

The Same Wedding Dress, Two Different Brides Chapter 11

“And our baby will never get the other one, either.”

Whatever hope had been left in Elliot’s face disappeared.

“Is there really no way back for us?”

“There is no us anymore, Elliot.”

I took an envelope from my bag and handed it to him.

Inside was an agreement dividing the apartment and our savings.

“Look it over. If everything’s right, sign it.”

Elliot didn’t move.

“Elena, can you please stop talking to me like that?”

I looked at him.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m nobody to you.”

I was quiet for a couple of seconds.

“That’s exactly what we are now. Nothing to each other.”

His eyes slowly reddened.

“Elena, can you really let go of seven years together?”

He paused before continuing.

“I’ve thought about everything these past few days. It started when I promised Vivian’s parents I’d

look after her, and then I let it get completely out of control.”

“I kept testing your limits, little by little. I mistook your understanding for permission. Every time,

I told myself you’d understand anyway, and that a few soft words afterward would make everything

okay.”

His voice was barely audible.

“I was wrong for never taking your feelings into account. I was wrong for being so sure you’d never

leave.”

“Elena, I’m not asking you to forgive me.”

“I’m only asking for one more chance to come back into your life.”

“won’t let you down again.”

If he’d said all of this sooner, maybe it would’ve hurt me for a long time.

Now, all I felt was the calm that came after everything was already over.

“Elliot.”

He looked at me.

“Some things stay broken, no matter how carefully you put them back together.”

“We can’t go back.”

The last trace of hope left his face.

After a long silence, tears finally fell.

Before I left, he held out the engagement ring.

I looked at it for a few seconds.

“Throw it away.”

I turned and headed for the door.

Before stepping outside, I glanced back.

Elliot was still standing there with the ring clenched in his hand.

After a long time, he pressed it against his chest.

Two weeks later, the division of our shared property was finalized.

Elliot voluntarily gave up his entire share and signed it over to me.

The night he moved out, he sent me two pictures.

They showed the two photos of my father that he’d burned.

He had photographed them before destroying the originals.

Elliot: [I haven’t stopped regretting what I did to you that night.]

I stared at the images on my screen.

It had never been the pieces of paper themselves that mattered to me.

What I treasured were the moments they had captured–moments I could never return to.

What mattered were the memories behind them, the ones I couldn’t bear to let go of.

Time could dull the pain, but it could never erase the memory of how completely he’d brøken me.

I closed my eyes for a moment, opened Elliot’s contact, and hit Delete.

I never went back to the apartment we’d once shared.

I listed it with a real estate agent and sold it as quickly as I could.

Then I bought another place.

My mom and I slowly turned it into a home that felt warm and lived–in.

Sometimes, when I had a quiet moment, I would open the window and look outside.

The branches stirred gently in the breeze, reaching toward the sunlight.

I let myself enjoy the quiet.