Deleted.
Typed.
I hope she knows exactly what kind of man she married.
Deleted.
I stared at the screen for almost five minutes.
Then sent six words.
It’s over.
Pack your things and leave.
I took off the ring.
Placed it on the dashboard.
My finger looked strange without it.
Too pale.
An indentation around the skin.
The typing bubble appeared.
Mason is typing…
Then vanished.
Appeared again.
Vanished.
I laughed.
He had talked enough to marry another woman.
Now apparently words were difficult.
I started the engine.
Then movement caught my eye.
Someone was running through the garage entrance.
Mason.
He sprinted toward my car.
His shirt was untucked.
He looked terrified.
He pounded on the passenger window.
“Maya!”
I stared.
He pulled the door handle.
I had not locked it yet.
