The Other Woman Was Me - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the divorce papers were signed. I let out a deep breath—I was free. No more being tangled up in Felix's mess.
His eyes glistened with tears as he stared at me, like he couldn't fathom a future without me by his side.
"Honey…" His voice cracked.
I held up a hand, cutting him off. "We're divorced, Felix."
His face twisted with emotion, a bitter smile tugging at his lips as he launched into a trip down memory lane.
"Hailey, I still remember our wedding day like it was yesterday. It was pouring rain, but we told ourselves it was a good omen—that things would only get better from there. Who would've thought we'd end up here?" His voice wavered. "Remember the time capsules we buried under that old tree at school? We promised we'd dig them up together in ten years…"
"Go dig them up yourself," Oscar cut in, appearing beside me like a guardian angel. He didn't even give Felix a chance to respond before tugging me away. "Hailey's done with you. She couldn't care less about some old time capsules. And that rain on your wedding day? Probably God's way of telling you the whole thing was a mistake."
As we walked, Oscar kept going, his tone firm but gentle. "You gotta let go of the trash, Hailey. No point wasting sympathy on things that don't deserve it. There's better stuff out there—way better." He punctuated the last part by thumping his chest with a grin.
Felix went to the school alone. Under that big tree, he dug up the capsules—two years too soon.
He opened his first.
The paper had yellowed, but the words were still sharp, cutting deeper than he expected.
[I want to be with Hailey forever. She's the only woman I'll ever love, and I'll spend my life making her happy. They say marriages hit a seven-year itch. On our seventh anniversary, I'm taking her to the Arctic. I'll prove that love doesn't fade.]
The words hit him like a freight train.
His legs gave out.
Because what had he actually done on their seventh anniversary?
Debra had begged him to accompany her on a "business trip," claiming she didn't know the area. And like a fool, he went.
When he got back a week later, he found a shredded plane ticket.
At the time, he hadn't even checked the destination.
Now, it hit him.
The Arctic.
Hailey had gone alone.
Felix broke down right there under the tree, sobbing like his soul had been ripped out.
He'd lost her. For good.
Three months later, news exploded through Felix's social circle—a medical report exposing Debra as an HIV carrier.
Panic erupted. Men scrambled for tests.
Turns out, she'd been sleeping around for years, passing the virus to half of them.
Felix? Clean. Just like he'd sworn—he'd never touched her.
But it didn't matter. Not to me.
Later, I heard a man—one of her victims—stabbed Debra to death before turning the knife on himself.
As for Felix? After the divorce, he withered away.
Mutual friends reached out, saying he was a ghost of himself—holed up in our old house, drowning in liquor.
They begged me to talk to him, to pull him out of it.
I blocked every last one of them.
People make their choices. I wasn't about to interfere with his.