He Forgot The Pad That Saved My Dignity And I Used It To End Us Chapter 10

He Forgot The Pad That Saved My Dignity And I Used It To End Us Chapter 10

Another two months slipped by in the blink of an 

eye. 

Time moved quietly, like the maple tree outside my apartment window. Before I knew it, the fresh 

spring leaves had deepened into rich summer 

green. 

One weekend, I stopped by a flower market and bought a bouquet of daisies. 

Tiny white blossoms clustered together like a 

handful of little stars. 

They had been Grandpa’s favorite. 

“They’re not flashy,” he’d always said, “but they’re 

full of life.” 

I arranged them in a glass vase on the windowsill. 

When the afternoon sunlight streamed through 

the window, the edges of the petals seemed to 

glow. 

That evening, while sorting through some old 

belongings, I came across Grandpa’s letter again. 

It was tucked between the pages of a book, 

pressed perfectly flat after all this time. 

I carefully pulled it out. 

The envelope still bore the faint water stains from 

the tears I’d shed the first time I read it. No matter 

how much time passed, those marks never 

completely faded. 

“Grandpa.” 

I pressed the envelope gently against my cheek. 

The paper felt rough against my skin, but warmth. spread through my chest. 

After a moment, I slipped it back into the book and 

returned it to the shelf. 

Then I poured myself a mug of warm milk and 

settled by the window. 

My life no longer held the chaos it once had. 

Nothing was left that could send my emotions. 

crashing from one extreme to another. 

It had taken me five years to learn how to enjoy 

this kind of peace. 

Back then, silence had only made me anxious. 

Because I was always waiting for Killian to text 

me back. 

Because he was always with someone else. 

Now, the quiet felt different. 

It felt solid. 

Safe. 

Because I wasn’t waiting for anyone anymore. 

The next morning, on my way to work, I spotted a 

young couple standing at the bus stop. 

The guy shrugged off his jacket and draped it over 

his girlfriend’s shoulders. She ducked her head 

shyly, hiding a smile. 

Watching them stirred nothing inside me. 

Not pain. 

Not jealousy. 

Just a brief moment of realization. 

When I arrived at the office, Maya from reception 

hurried over, looking like she was carrying a 

secret. 

“Selena,” she whispered conspiratorially, “that 

Killian guy hasn’t come by again. Not once.” 

I nodded. “Mm.” 

“Do you think he’s finally given up?” 

“I don’t know,” I said. “And honestly, it doesn’t 

matter to me anymore.” 

She tilted her head. 

“You’re really not upset?” 

I thought about it for a moment before answering 

seriously. 

“Have you ever eaten something that’s ridiculously expensive, and everyone swears it’s amazing, but 

you just can’t stand it?” 

She blinked. “Uh… what?” 

“You keep trying to chew it because everyone says it’s supposed to be good, but no matter how hard you try, you just can’t swallow it.” 

Understanding slowly dawned on her face. 

I continued, “If one day you finally spit it out, would you be sad about it?” 

She froze for a second before laughing. 

“No. I’d be relieved.” 

“Exactly.” 

I returned to my desk and powered on my 

computer. 

“That’s exactly how it feels.” 

At lunch, I received a text message from an 

unknown number. 

It wasn’t Killian. 

It was Hazel. 

There was only one sentence. 

[Selena, Killian cut ties with me completely. He 

hasn’t spoken to me in a long time.] 

After reading it, I deleted the message 

immediately. 

I felt nothing. 

No satisfaction. 

No anger. 

No sadness. 

No sympathy. 

Whatever connection that situation had to me 

ended months ago, the moment I handed him the ring and said: 

“Here. We’re even now.” 

From that point on, it was over. 

Over the following months, I traveled to places I’d 

always wanted to visit. 

Many of them were destinations I’d once 

mentioned to Killian. 

He’d always claimed he was too busy. 

Yet somehow he’d found time to take Hazel on 

countless trips. 

But none of that mattered anymore. 

I no longer needed him beside me. 

I discovered how much I loved traveling alone. 

I stood before endless oceans that stretched 

beyond the horizon. 

I wandered through rolling fields of lavender 

glowing beneath the summer sun. 

I climbed mountaintops where the entire world 

seemed to unfold beneath my feet. 

And in the end, after seeing all those places, I still 

found myself happiest returning home. 

Golden sunlight spilled across my balcony, 

illuminating the little white daisies on the 

windowsill. 

changed the water in the vase. 

Heated up some milk. 

Cooked myself a simple dinner. 

Outside, children raced down the sidewalk, 

shouting as they played. 

From somewhere below, an elderly woman called 

out to her cat. 

“Milo! Dinner time! Get back here!” 

I stood by the window listening to those familiar neighborhood sounds. 

Then, unexpectedly, I smiled. 

All that life and noise existed around me. 

Part of it belonged to my world. 

Part of it didn’t. 

But I was here. 

I had my own life. 

My own routines. 

My own things to love. 

I didn’t need to mourn anyone. 

I wasn’t someone’s accessory. 

I wasn’t a name burdened by someone else’s guilt. 

I was simply Selena Miller. 

Grandpa’s granddaughter. 

And, finally, my own person.