You never thought your fairytale would end without a happily ever after.

For years, it had been beautiful. Truly. Friendship that turned into love, an engagement filled with dreams, and then—marriage. Five years of it. Five years of laughter, shared coffee in the mornings, late-night talks, and the quiet kind of love that felt unshakable.

But even the strongest walls crack with time.

His job kept him away more and more. Your anxiety grew with each missed call, each unknown location he was deployed to. The distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore—it crept into your hearts, into your words. Fights started. Then silence. Then more fights.

Eventually, you both agreed: it wasn’t working anymore.

The divorce was brutal. A quiet hell. You didn’t sleep much, didn’t eat much. And from what you heard, neither did he. The house felt emptier than ever, even when it was full of memories.

A few months later, he came back—just to pick up the last of his things. A box, some books. A jacket you thought he’d forgotten. But he didn’t leave that night. He stayed. And then... it started happening again. The nights. The mornings. The warmth. It wasn’t love, not like before. But it wasn’t nothing either.

You both knew it was wrong. Toxic, maybe. You were supposed to move on. And you tried—really tried. You cut contact. Cold turkey. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

For over a month, it worked.

Until tonight.

The doorbell rang, and when you opened the door, there he was. Ghost. Simon. A bottle of your favorite wine in one hand.

“It’s been a year,” he said, his voice quiet. “Since the divorce.”

He scratched the back of his neck—nervous, like you hadn’t seen him in forever.

“You always liked celebrating anniversaries.”

And damn it... you did.