He Missed the Funeral... For Her - Chapter 12: Chapter 12
You are reading He Missed the Funeral... For Her, Chapter 12: Chapter 12. Read more chapters of He Missed the Funeral... For Her.
My phone wouldn't stop buzzing—Damon had resorted to blowing up my messages since I wasn't answering.
"Ashy, I'm sorry. I was wrong. Give me another chance to fix this."
"I'll make you breakfast tomorrow."
"Don't take the train after work—let me drive you home."
"I heard you have surgery today. Don't stress, you'll do great."
It was like he'd flipped a switch back to doting boyfriend mode, drowning me in the kind of attention I hadn't seen in months. Too bad my only reaction was kicking myself for forgetting to block his number sooner.
I smacked my own forehead in frustration, then wasted no time dragging his contact straight to the block list.
But Damon wasn't done. He showed up at the hospital with the unsigned divorce papers, cornered me in the stairwell, and ripped them to shreds right in front of me.
"Why did you block me? Why are you ignoring me?"
He looked furious, like I'd committed some unforgivable crime.
I shoved him back. "Seriously, Damon? You don't get to have double standards."
My eyes flicked to the torn papers scattered on the floor. "No big deal. I'll just print another copy."
What I didn't get was why he was making this so difficult. If he didn't love me enough to stay faithful, why couldn't we just walk away clean?
"No. I'm not signing anything. As long as I refuse, we're not getting divorced!"
His stubbornness almost made me laugh. "Doesn't matter. I'll file without you."
The second the words left my mouth, his face twisted—brows furrowed, jaw tight.
"Ashy, it's my fault. I didn't get it before, but I do now. I love you. I won't let this happen."
I just stared. Was he for real?
Once I walked away, Damon slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Memories played on loop in his head—every moment he'd taken me for granted.
Carol in the passenger seat, even when my discomfort was written all over my face.
Sharing his day with her, ignoring how it stung me.
Now that I was the one pulling away, now that someone else's car door was closing behind me—now he felt the burn.
And when his messages went unanswered, the ache settled deep.
A bitter laugh escaped him. His chest tightened, crawling with the kind of regret that gnawed like ants under his skin.
For the first time, he realized just how much he'd shattered me.
"Ashy, I'm sorry. I was wrong. Give me another chance to fix this."
"I'll make you breakfast tomorrow."
"Don't take the train after work—let me drive you home."
"I heard you have surgery today. Don't stress, you'll do great."
It was like he'd flipped a switch back to doting boyfriend mode, drowning me in the kind of attention I hadn't seen in months. Too bad my only reaction was kicking myself for forgetting to block his number sooner.
I smacked my own forehead in frustration, then wasted no time dragging his contact straight to the block list.
But Damon wasn't done. He showed up at the hospital with the unsigned divorce papers, cornered me in the stairwell, and ripped them to shreds right in front of me.
"Why did you block me? Why are you ignoring me?"
He looked furious, like I'd committed some unforgivable crime.
I shoved him back. "Seriously, Damon? You don't get to have double standards."
My eyes flicked to the torn papers scattered on the floor. "No big deal. I'll just print another copy."
What I didn't get was why he was making this so difficult. If he didn't love me enough to stay faithful, why couldn't we just walk away clean?
"No. I'm not signing anything. As long as I refuse, we're not getting divorced!"
His stubbornness almost made me laugh. "Doesn't matter. I'll file without you."
The second the words left my mouth, his face twisted—brows furrowed, jaw tight.
"Ashy, it's my fault. I didn't get it before, but I do now. I love you. I won't let this happen."
I just stared. Was he for real?
Once I walked away, Damon slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Memories played on loop in his head—every moment he'd taken me for granted.
Carol in the passenger seat, even when my discomfort was written all over my face.
Sharing his day with her, ignoring how it stung me.
Now that I was the one pulling away, now that someone else's car door was closing behind me—now he felt the burn.
And when his messages went unanswered, the ache settled deep.
A bitter laugh escaped him. His chest tightened, crawling with the kind of regret that gnawed like ants under his skin.
For the first time, he realized just how much he'd shattered me.
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