All Chapters of Let Me Go, Ex Husband!: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Orchard’s POV The evening air was cool as I climbed the steps to the rooftop. My body felt heavy, like each movement required more effort than it should. The door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing the quiet sanctuary that had always been my retreat. The rooftop wasn’t much to look at, it was a simple flat space bordered by a rusty railing. A few old chairs sat scattered around, one missing a leg, the other barely standing. The city stretched out in front of me, endless and alive. I stepped toward the edge, my boots scuffing against the uneven surface, and sank to the ground with my back against the railing. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey. It clinked softly against the metal railing as I set it down beside me, and for a moment, I just stared at it. My fingers tightened around the glass. I unscrewed the cap and raised the bottle to my lips, the first sip burning as it slid down my throat. The whiskey was old and sharp, but it did the

Tiffany “No,” she shook her head. “You wait,” she said, very firm. “You wait until everything is ready, and then you go change. I’m hoping that at least you’ll have things done before you come home.” She started to walk away from me. “Very good,” of course, that was her staple—walking away when she believed herself to be done with people or going to meet someone. So, after Mom left, I decided to go downstairs and simply get some hands-on experience. “Status?” I whispered to Bethany, Kimberly’s second. “We’re almost done with the table placement,” she said. “Of course, they’re also ready to cover the tables and set up the centerpieces. We’re having a few issues, though,” she said. “The guest list is quite muddled, and because we didn’t have a rehearsal dinner to figure out who’s sitting where, I hope the vegan table doesn’t get mixed up with the one for meat-eaters.” She widened her dark blue eyes. “This is a travesty,” she said, touching her forehead. “Shut up,” I mumbl

Tiffany Dave soon began to walk towards the door. My mouth hung open as I watched him. Surely he wasn't serious, right? He was joking, right? "I'm sorry," I said. I blurted it out. "Can we just forget that ever happened and face this like adults?" He stopped dead in his tracks, his muscles tensing as he breathed in and out slowly. Somehow, I found myself mirroring his exact actions, trying to ease out the tension I felt and hoping that the slight moisture on my head wasn’t sweat but merely my imagination. "Fine," Dave shrugged, turned around quickly, and began walking toward the walk-in closet not far from me. Subconsciously, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and began panting heavily for breath, while even more moisture gathered on my forehead. Yep, that was sweat, I told myself as I reached for a bit of tissue and dabbed at it. Before I was done with my makeup, he came out, fully showered and wrapped in a towel, his hair now white and wet. His eyes briefly found

Iris Halle’s reply was totally expected, the world could probably be ending tomorrow and she would go to the office today.“Yeah, but…” I reached out toward her, placing a hand on her. Granted, she wasn’t pale, and she didn’t look tired. If anything, she looked much better than the day she was discharged. But still. I had seen just a little bit too much confidence harm someone. It suddenly struck me, remembering one of my high school friends, Betty. Her mom got admitted to the hospital due to an accident. While Betty was mostly fine, her mom wasn’t. By the time the doctor said she was fine and ready to go home, Betty’s mom spent two days at home and died in her bed due to complications from a surgery she had. Of course, Halle couldn’t be compared to that. Still, I was worried. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” She smiled a rather kind smile, shook her head, and somehow tapped me on the nose with an index finger. “I’m fine,” she said. “Not really perfect, but the whol

DaveThe signature blue flashes of sirens illuminated the night outside. It clashed against everything and everyone, but even aside from that, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the smoke—high pillars of smoke moving unfettered toward the night sky, while large pillars of fire did the rest of the illuminating if the sirens weren’t enough to see. “Can you tell us what happened?” I snapped back into my mind while seated and found myself in the holding room of the police station. There was a female police officer staring at me, her arms folded across her chest. Her hair had been slicked back, making her look like a cat, I thought to myself. “I didn’t see anything,” I said. Of course, that was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that. “Look, Mr. Rover. We know exactly who you are.” She placed a hand on the table, revealing her ugly nails. No, seriously, her nails were uneven, pointing in all directions, and coupled with her terribly kept fingers, it all stirred a sense of dis