The night Flynn asked for a divorce, I felt my world crumble. For five years, we’d built what seemed like a perfect life together. But recently, he’d grown distant, coming home late, snapping at little things, and avoiding my touch. When I asked what was wrong, he only said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

After he left, I noticed his laptop on the shelf. Desperate for answers, I opened it — and found messages to someone saved as “Love.” They were intimate, filled with jokes, plans, and promises. My stomach dropped when I read they’d meet at the café Flynn and I once loved.

That evening, I sat in my car outside the café, heart pounding. When Flynn arrived, I braced myself to see another woman. But instead, he met Benji — his best friend. The way Flynn looked at him, with a happiness I hadn’t seen in months, told me the truth: he hadn’t fallen out of love. He had finally admitted who he truly was.

When we met the next day, he broke down. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Nova. I just couldn’t keep pretending. Benji helped me realize I need to live honestly.” It hurt deeply, but I understood. His leaving wasn’t because of something I did. It was because he needed to be himself. As painful as it was, I chose to let him go — and in doing so, I found a quiet strength I didn’t know I had.