atlined, was our fifth wedding anniversary. I remember the date vividly. I

ing letters of light: "ALEX IS BACK! MY LOVE, MY LIFE! - I." Drones formed hearts in the sky. Social media exploded. #AustinLoveStory #AlexAndIsabella. Pictures of them, Bella and her "col

ng room. I was there with her father, Mr. Harrison. He'd had

ke a son, saw the news report over my shoulder. He saw the

m. "Enough. She's not worth this. Let her

to say his health

r drag you into this mess." He fumbled in his bedside table, pulling out a checkbook and a pre-written cashier's check. "This is for you. A fresh s

onal insult. The air thrummed with their celebrated lo

cant sum. More than I'd ever seen. It felt

oicemail. Seven times. Each unanswered call solidi

t. The background noise was faint,

asked, my own voi

hat do you

inally coming out, clean and cold. "Tomorrow morning.

es now, are we? Fine. Send me the pa

, the couple's cookbook still in its cellophane, the framed photo from our wedding where I was beaming and she looked like she was facing a firing squad – they could all stay. Remnants of a lif