He Canceled Our Ring to Buy Her a Bag, and I’m the One Who Looks Foolish Chapter 11

He Canceled Our Ring to Buy Her a Bag, and I’m the One Who Looks Foolish Chapter 11

Half a month later, news came from back home. 

Ryan had signed the divorce agreement. 

His mother had forced him to sign it. 

I heard that after he fell ill in Iceland, he returned to 

the States looking like he had lost his soul. 

Then his studio ran into trouble. 

Several major clients terminated their contracts at 

the same time. 

The reason was simple. 

Lily had been showing off the private boudoir 

photos Ryan had taken for her. 

Some of those shoots had used client project 

locations and budgets. 

Once the scandal spread, Ryan’s reputation 

collapsed. 

Once Lily saw that he had lost his standing, she turned around and latched onto another investor. 

Before leaving, she even listed that $3,799 bag on 

a resale site. 

The title read, [Gift from my ex. Bad energy. Priced to sell.] 

When I saw the screenshot, I was organizing 

photos for my exhibition. 

I only smiled. 

Good. 

The thing he had bought with my wedding ring money deserved, in the end, to be dismissed as 

bad luck. 

Another month later, my aurora solo exhibition 

opened in Reykjavík. 

In the gallery, the largest photograph hung at the 

very center. 

Above the snowfield, the aurora poured down from 

the sky. 

There were no figures. 

There was no waiting. 

There was only light. 

Daniel asked me, “Have you decided on a title for 

this piece?” 

I looked at that light and thought of my empty ring finger in the jewelry store. 

I thought of the canceled order. 

I thought of the SIM card I had snapped in half before the plane took off. 

And I thought of Ryan, kneeling in the snow and 

crying. 

Finally, I lifted my champagne glass and lightly clinked it against Daniel’s. 

“Let’s call it Canceled Order.” 

Daniel paused, then smiled. 

“Sharp.” 

I smiled too. 

Yes. 

The wedding ring he had canceled had not 

trapped me. 

Instead, it had bought me a plane ticket out. 

After the exhibition ended, I received an email. 

The sender was Ryan. 

The subject line had only two words. 

[I’m sorry.] 

I did not open it. 

I deleted it directly. 

My phone screen went blank and clean again. 

Outside the window, the Icelandic night was deep. 

In the distance, faint green light flowed along the 

edge of the sky. 

I pulled my coat tighter and walked into the wind. 

Once, I thought I had to wait for a ring to prove I 

was worthy of love. 

Later, I learned that even with my hand empty, I 

could still hold a camera. 

I could still pull a suitcase. 

I could still sign a divorce agreement. 

I could still buy my own ticket to freedom. 

I captured the light Ryan could not give me myself. 

I captured it myself.