The envelope was cream-colored, expensive, the kind my ex-husband, Garrett, always said we couldn’t afford. But it wasn’t a bill, or a late payment notice, or another reminder of how broke I was. It was a wedding invitation.
Garrett was marrying Tessa, the woman he left me for four years ago, and he wanted me to be there to watch, to witness, to see him finally happy.
The note inside read: “No hard feelings.”
No hard feelings about the affair, about the divorce, about taking everything and leaving me with seven hundred reais a month and a ruined life.
Rebeca Hartwell stared at the envelope on the kitchen table. The apartment was silent, too silent. Evan and Emilia were at school. Her coffee had gone cold an hour ago. She hadn’t moved. The invitation was there like a living being, mocking her.
May be an image of aircraft, wedding and text
She picked it up, put it back, picked it up again. She locked, unlocked, locked the cell phone that was next to her. She could call Diana. She could tear the whole thing to pieces, throw it in the trash, pretend it never arrived. Instead, she opened the laptop. The email was still there, the one from Juliano that she still hadn’t replied to.
She glanced back at the invitation. *Garrett Michael Sullivan and Tessa Marie Brightwell request the honor of your presence at their wedding ceremony.*
Her hands trembled. The thick, expensive paper vibrated between her fingers. There was a note inside. Handwritten. His handwriting. The same handwriting he used to leave her love notes with. The same handwriting he used to sign the divorce papers with four years ago.
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