My Ex Sued Me for the Account We Built Together Chapter 09

My Ex Sued Me for the Account We Built Together Chapter 09

One year later. 

My channel had grown to over sixty million followers, slightly surpassing Ty&Sha’s peak popularity. Back then, viewers tuned in for our couple lifestyle content, drawn to Tyler Wilson’s good looks. Now, my audience followed me solely for my own self. 

I had traveled to over 130 small towns across America and filmed eighty–one videos. In every video, I dived into local history, architecture and folk customs. I never used empty filler or cheap gimmicks; every statement I made was verifiable, and every viewpoint was well–supported. 

One fan left a comment: [Watching your videos is like taking a wonderful college elective, yet it never feels exhausting at all.] 

Another wrote: [I used to love Ty&Sha because I envied you for having such a stunning boyfriend. Now I finally understand how incredible you are on‘ your own. Beauty never comes from the person beside you–it comes from yourself. I finally get it.] 

The cultural travel program I hosted was renewed 

for a second season, consistently ranking top 

three in its time slot. The crew assigned me a dedicated team, yet I still insisted on editing every 

video by myself. It was an unbreakable habit, and I had no intention of changing it. 

That autumn, I held a book signing in the capital city. My new book, The Road I’ve Traveled, was a collection of personal essays documenting all the journeys I had taken and all the people I had encountered over the years. 

A lot of people showed up. One woman waited in line for two hours. When she got to my table, she handed me a note card. It said: [Sharon, thank you for showing me that leaving someone isn’t the end of the world. Finding yourself–that’s what really matters.] 

I looked at it for a long time. Then I wrote something back for her: [Believe in yourself. You deserve all the beauty this world has to offer.] 

After the signing, I was tidying up backstage when my assistant handed me an envelope. A man had left it at the front desk with no name attached. 

I opened it. Inside was a postcard. On the front 

was Mesa Verde National Park. On the back, in Tyler’s handwriting: [Sharon–I went to Colorado like you said. Standing in front of Cliff Palace, I 

finally realized how wrong I was. I finally get what you meant–once you take something away from where it belongs, it’s just rock and paint. I used to think of you as my safe harbor. But I never saw that you’re your own mountain. I’m sorry. I broke my promises and I hurt you. I hope you’re doing okay.] 

I turned the postcard over and read it again. Then I slipped it into my book. I didn’t reply. I didn’t throw it away. 

The past stays in the past. The things I thought I’d 

never get over–time eventually covered them up. 

That night, I went home. I turned on my phone and 

recorded a new video. The fireplace was the same. 

one as always. I lit it and saw how beautiful it 

looked. I sat quietly in front of it and spoke softly 

to the camera. 

“This past year, I learned a lot. How to swim. How 

to stand in front of a camera by myself and just 

talk. How to stop caring so much about people 

watching me. And one more thing–nobody’s 

coming to save you. You save yourself.” 

“So from now on, I’m walking this road alone. No 

looking back. No forgiving. No regrets.” 

I didn’t post the video. I saved it to my phone–a note to myself. 

Outside my window, the city lights stretched on 

for miles. I put my phone down and opened my 

new book. On the title page, I read the words I had 

written there: [For everyone walking alone in the 

dark–morning always comes.]