My runaway bride reappeared ten years later in heels and a power suit, demanding I sign our divorce papers like we were just neighbors with unfinished business.
I consider myself a loner. Honestly, I still have a wife. She had just run away from our wedding ten years before.
Every year, I get the same envelope from her. New law firm name, new initials, glossy folder — just the way she likes it — a true aesthete, even in divorce proceedings.
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I open it, read halfway through, sigh, and stash it in the drawer. There’s a whole collection, almost like a calendar, for every year of our “fake marriage.”
That morning, as usual, I was cleaning the barn. The snow had melted, the ground was soft, and the tractor refused to start again. My glove was torn; the dog had buried the other boot somewhere.
All, just as it should be. Quiet. Peaceful. The air smelled of fresh grass and smoke. I love that — it smells like life. Real life.
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I reached into the metal mailbox. An envelope. Gold initials. Oh, something new. She switched firms. Progress.
“Well, hello, Mel.”
The dog barked. We understood each other without words those days.
“Would you sign it, Johnny?” I asked my dog, sitting down on the porch with my coffee.
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He sneezed. Wise dog. While I was thinking, Billy dropped by. My childhood friend, a farmer who always smells like apples and diesel fuel.
“So, she sent you another ‘love letter’?” he smirked, setting a basket of fresh bread on the step.
“Yep. Volume Ten. Might auction them off someday.”
“Still not gonna sign?”
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“Nope. I’ve got a principle. If you want to end something — come and say it. No need to yell. Just be honest.”
Billy sighed, gave me a look like he wanted to say something — then changed his mind.
“I’ll get going. Looks like rain’s coming, and I didn’t bring a cover.”
“You’re wearing a leather jacket, Billy.”
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“That’s not a cover — it’s fashion.”
And he left, leaving me with my coffee, my dog, and yet another farewell letter.
I went back inside. Everything is in place. I tossed more logs into the stove. Scratched the dog behind the ear and turned on the radio — the only thing that hasn’t abandoned me over the years.
And then, I heard the sound.
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First — a low engine hum. Then — the familiar squeak of suitcase wheels. Then — high heels crunching on gravel. I stepped onto the porch. And saw her.
Melanie. Her hair was a bit shorter, but her eyes were the same. She had that look — like we saw each other yesterday, even though it’s been ten years.
“Hi, Jake.”
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I smiled. But something inside me clenched.
“Well. Finally decided to come and ask for an autograph in person?”
***
Melanie stepped across the threshold. Her eyes scanned the wedding photo on the mantel.
“You still keep that?” she nodded toward the frame.
“Yep. Nice photo. And the frame isn’t cheap either.”
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Her gaze drifted past the mantel to the plaid throw blanket on the armchair. It was the same one we used to fight over on rainy nights. Her fingers brushed it gently and then paused.
Melanie turned toward the kitchen shelves, where old jam jars stood in a neat row.
“Is that… blueberry?”
“Yeah. From that summer when the berries went wild behind the barn.”
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Melanie gave the faintest nod, but her eyes glistened before she looked away. Then she straightened her posture, smoothed her sleeve, and reached for her briefcase.
She sat at the table and pulled out the documents.
“Jake, I’m serious. My wedding’s in two months. I need everything signed.”
I sat down across from her.
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“The groom wants to make sure you’re officially single?”
“He thinks I’m single. So don’t make this harder than it is.”
“Have you ever been honest with me, Mel?”
“Oh, don’t start.”
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“Fine. Not starting. Just listening.”
She unfolded the papers and laid them out in front of me. I glanced at them.
“Old version. Outdated. Doesn’t even mention the farm.”
“Well, I thought…”
“That nothing had changed? Big surprise, huh?”
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She flared.
“Jake, I didn’t come here for your passive-aggressive lectures. I came because I’m tired of playing silent. I want to end this like an adult.”
“An adult comes sooner than ten years later. An adult doesn’t run off the night before the honeymoon and hide behind envelopes.”
She stood up. Her hands were trembling.
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“If it’s money you want — just say so. How much?”
“Money?” I laughed. “You think I waited ten years for a payout?”
“Then why, Jake?! Why haven’t you signed?”
“Because you still haven’t said why you ran. I have principles.”
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“Oh, Jake, it’s been years. Everything’s changed.”
I stood.
“Yeah, it has. I got my life together. Built something. A business. And by the way, I earned everything I had while we were still married. Officially. Legally. Even the lakeside lot. And those two cow-show trophies? Still during our marriage.”
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She stared at me silently.
“By law, half of it is yours,” I said. “But I’m not handing it over to someone who only dared to mail things once a year.”
“You… you’re blackmailing me?”
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“No. I’m giving you a choice. I’ll sign if you formally waive any claim. At a notary. All legal. But we’ll need to update the paperwork. That takes time.”
She sat back down. “Fine. How long?”
“A week. Maybe two. This isn’t New York. Around here, the internet runs through a tree.”
“Then I’m staying. Technically, it’s my house too.”
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“Technically — yes,” I sighed. “But you’re cooking dinner. I’m allergic to your flower petal salads.”
“And I’m allergic to dust and male ego.”
We stared at each other for a few long seconds. Then, I walked off toward the pantry to break eye contact. Melanie climbed upstairs — offended, with her briefcase under her arm like she’d come here to win, not to talk.
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I knew she wouldn’t survive that silence.
Truthfully, the papers were just an excuse to keep her here a little longer. So I could finally knock some sense into our marriage.
Because I still loved that infuriating woman. Whoever she had become.
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***
Days on the farm passed quickly, but our silence moved painfully slowly.
Melanie spent most of her days in town, hunting for a decent Wi-Fi signal. Meanwhile, I cleaned the house and the yard and planted flowers on the porch.
Billy dropped by one afternoon.
“This place hasn’t looked this good since your wedding, pal.”
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“Oh, I just… finally had some time for myself.”
“Careful, someone might fall for you.”
“Cut it out. Not Melanie. That’s long gone.”
Billy tilted his head and looked at me like I’d just said the sky was green.
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“Jake, don’t be a fool. She’s here. That means something.”
“She’s here because she wants a signature.”
“Then sign it. Or don’t. But for the love of bacon, talk to her. Ask her to dinner. Do something other than fixing fences and mumbling at your dog.”
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That evening, I found Melanie in the pantry. She was holding my box of documents.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not even raising my voice.
“Looking for tea. But I stumbled on this.”
“You always break into places where you’re not invited?”
“And you always hide what matters instead of talking about it?”
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“I wasn’t hiding. I was postponing. It wasn’t time yet.”
“Not time?! I’m getting married, Jake! Married! To a real, present, grown man!”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure he will be thrilled to hear his bride was digging through her legal husband’s pantry.”
“You just can’t accept that I left! That I changed! You hold on to the past like an old jacket that hasn’t fit in years!”
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“And you hold on to some fantasy version of yourself until you have to look yourself in the eye. Have you ever actually thought about what you did? I can’t believe the Melanie I loved could sleep at night after running away like that!”
“Oh, I slept just fine! I didn’t have to crawl under three blankets because someone never fixed the windows!”
“You never said anything bothered you! Not once!”
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“Oh, maybe because it was obvious?! You never asked what I wanted! I wanted more! A career! The city lights!”
“You could’ve told me. We could’ve sold this place and moved to New York together.”
“Oh yeah? And what about the money you poured into building this farm the day before the wedding? You think I didn’t see the contract? That was the final straw, Jake! You said nothing.”
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“And you did? You said nothing, either! About your dreams, about the windows!”
“I’ve had enough! No wonder I ran. I haven’t even been able to answer my fiancé for two days because there’s no signal here!”
“Oh. You probably connected to the broken router. I have two — forgot to mention.”
“You! How dare you!”
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She slammed the pantry door. The house went black — total darkness.
“What was that?” I frowned.
“I… may have knocked that old switch.”
“That ‘old switch’ was the main breaker. It’s broken now. Congratulations, Mel, we’re in the dark.”
“Wonderful! Magical!” she shouted. “No light, no water, no reason to live!”
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“Let’s not overreact,” I muttered, grabbing a flashlight.
I headed outside and built a fire. Melanie sat on the bench, wrapped in my old flannel shirt. No makeup. Hair hastily tied up. For the first time in days, she looked real.
“You hungry?” I asked, skewering some chicken.
“Starving. But if you offer me canned beans, I’ll run to the nearest motel.”
“Barbecue. Real fire. Your dad’s old recipe, actually.”
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She gave a slight nod.
“Mel…” I started but didn’t finish.
“Don’t. I don’t even know what to think. But it’s… peaceful here. Cozy, even. You’ve turned this place into something magical. I miss that in New York.”
“It’s not too late to stay. I always knew your soul was too wild and free for a city apartment, even if it’s a big one.”
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I chuckled. “Yeah… I only realized that after I got everything I ever wanted.”
“Well, there are plenty of forests and fields out here to calm the rebel in you.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I ran because I was scared I’d stay here forever. That my dreams would die under diapers, early mornings, and a farm you decided to build.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t going to make you a prisoner. I wanted to make you happy.”
We sat in silence. The fire crackled.
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Then, Melanie suddenly laughed.
“Remember when I burned your favorite sweater?”
“It was hideous.”
“But warm!” she giggled. “And it smelled like you.”
“Melanie… All these years, I couldn’t understand… why? We were so in love. I still…”
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Suddenly, headlights lit up the yard.
“You expecting someone?” I asked.
Melanie’s face went pale.
“No… No, it can’t be…”
Out stepped a tall man in a coat. Phone pressed to his ear. Slicked-back hair, judgmental stare. New York in human form.
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“Melanie! Finally, I found you!” he shouted. “What are you doing here with this…!”
Melanie opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off.
“You’ve got meetings this week. My assistant’s been trying to reach you. And my mother’s freaking out about the seating chart.”
“This…?” I raised an eyebrow. “This is her legal husband. For now.”
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He looked from me to her.
“What is this?! Some kind of joke?!”
“Oh. Sorry,” I said dryly. “Thought you knew.”
“Melanie! Pack your things. We’re leaving. We have a wedding to plan. Did you forget?”
Melanie stood frozen. Speechless.
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I calmly took a piece of grilled meat from the skewer, bit into it, and added,
“No rush, Mel. You’re hungry — eat first. And, sir… have a seat. Help yourself. The night’s just getting started.”
***
Packing was fast.
While Melanie was arguing with her fiancé in my yard, I sat quietly in my office, signing the papers. Calmly. Steadily. Only my hand trembled a little. Before she walked out the door, I handed her the documents.
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“Here. It’s all official now.”
She looked down at them. Then at me. Her eyes dropped.
“I’m sorry… I have to go.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Her hand was already on the doorknob when I stepped toward her.
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“But just tell me one thing. One simple thing.”
She froze.
“Is this really what you wanted? Are you truly happy?”
Silence.
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“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
And she left. But I already knew the answer.
I sat on the porch with my dog, watching the fire burn down.
Suddenly, I understood… I couldn’t make the same mistake twice. Ten years ago, I let her walk away. This time, I am going to fight. I grabbed my pickup keys and tore off into the night.
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I took the shortcut I’d built over the years — a road that led straight to town and the highway. It turns out it wasn’t built in vain.
Thirty minutes later, I burst into the airport like a madman.
The flight to New York… had already taken off. Too late. She’s gone. Again.
“Jake?”
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I turned around. Melanie stood there. Backpack slung over her shoulder, with tears in her eyes.
“I thought you’d flown…”
“And I thought one time running was enough. Twice would just be stupid.”
“And what stopped you?”
“The dog. I forgot to say goodbye to Johnny,” she said with a tiny grin.
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“The dog?” I laughed. “And here I thought it was my world-famous barbecue.”
“I realized halfway through the airport that I’ve never laughed with him. Not really. We make sense on paper. But we don’t… feel.”
We drove home together. On the way, she fell asleep leaning on my shoulder — like she used to back in college. On the porch, she pulled the divorce papers from her bag.
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She tore them in half. Then again. And again.
“Divorce officially canceled. But only if you promise never to wear sweaters in that color again. And help me move my stuff.”
“Man’s honor.”
The dog growled softly. And we walked inside. It was warm there. And quiet. And no one was in a rush to leave ever again.
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My Ex Husband’s New Girlfriend Found My Number to Ask Me Just One Question — When I Read Her Text, I Was Stunned
My story is about how my ex-husband’s girlfriend realized a truth about him that I grew too comfortable with while married to him. With one important question, his new girlfriend taught me a valuable lesson about self-love after reaching out unexpectedly.
I’ve been divorced for five years now, and it’s been an interesting journey navigating life post-marriage. My ex-husband, Ben, 48, and I, 45, were together for 13 years and had two wonderful kids. Even after our split, we’ve managed to stay on good terms.
We co-parent effectively despite our marriage having its ups and downs. Ben and I are best friends and have also maintained a friendship that surprises most people. Our divorce wasn’t messy; we simply wanted different things out of life.
Yesterday was our eldest’s 16th birthday, and we decided to celebrate with a family dinner. Ben has been seeing someone new, a woman named Lisa, for about four months. He told me about her as soon as their relationship got serious.
Transparency was part of our agreement to keep things open and honest for the sake of our children. He asked if he could bring Lisa to the birthday dinner, and while I wasn’t thrilled as I would have preferred to meet her one-on-one first, I didn’t want to cause any drama or be intrusive. So, I agreed.
On that fateful day, I finally got to meet Lisa who was friendly, and eager to make a good impression, which was a relief. I preferred her to be a good person if she was going to be around my children.
She’s got a kind smile and she immediately struck up a conversation with me about the kids’ school and activities. I could tell she was trying hard to fit in, which I appreciated.
As the evening went on, I noticed how attentive Lisa was to Ben. It was sweet but also a little unsettling because I never saw that side of him during our marriage. I chalked it up to new relationship energy and tried to focus on the kids and the celebration.
Halfway through dinner, things got weird when my eldest handed me a birthday card from her father. This caught me off guard because my birthday was months ago. No one usually remembers it, and Ben has never been one to recall such occasions.
Don’t get me wrong, my children’s father is a great man. But he’s really terrible with things like anniversaries, birthdays, or any special occasions. During all the years we were together, Ben never got me a present or card.
It was also my responsibility to handle events like the kids’ birthdays, Christmas, and more. I don’t know if I was wrong for this, but his forgetfulness didn’t bother me. I thanked my daughter, feeling touched by the gesture.
Lisa, sitting across from me, saw my surprise. I had assumed she’d made him get it, but then I noticed how she was giving me these funny looks. Unsure what they meant, I decided to mingle with other guests to avoid the awkwardness.
But, Lisa somehow managed to get my attention. “Ben mentioned he’s not great with birthdays,” she said with a chuckle. “He forgot mine a few weeks ago. Is it intentional?”
I laughed, remembering all the missed anniversaries and forgotten special days. “I have no idea, Lisa, but 13 years of marriage and two kids wasn’t the benchmark because he never really got the hang of it,” I replied. “It’s just who he is.”
Lisa seemed disappointed and tried to hide it, but I thought nothing of it and wandered off to talk to other guests. I decided to shift the conversation to something lighter and talked about family plans and the upcoming holidays. The rest of the evening went smoothly, and we all parted ways with smiles and hugs.
Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, I received a text from an unknown number. It was my ex’s new girlfriend. “Hi, this is Lisa. I got your number from Ben. I hope it’s okay to text you. I wanted to ask you something.”
Curious, I replied, “Sure, what’s up?”
Her response came quickly and when I read it, I was STUNNED. She hadn’t gotten over our brief conversation earlier and was asking if Ben’s forgetfulness of special occasions was something that could be fixed. “I know this might seem odd because we touched on it earlier, but I need to know…”
“…Does Ben ever improve when it comes to birthdays and anniversaries? I don’t want to make a big deal out of it if it’s something that won’t change.” I stared at my phone, feeling a mix of emotions. Part of me wanted to warn her, to tell her not to ever expect much.
But another part of me debated whether to give Ben a heads-up as it seemed like this was a serious issue for his new girlfriend and that she expected more attention to such things. Yet, a part of me resented having to teach him to be better about something he never tried with me.
I also felt like it wasn’t my place to interfere. After a moment, I typed back, “Honestly, he’s my ex for a reason. I can’t say if he’ll change or not, and I’m not going to have the answers you need.” I continued, “It’s something you’ll have to figure out together. Lovely meeting you, though.”
Months went by without much thought about that night. Then, one evening, Ben called me out of the blue. “Lisa and I broke up,” he said, sounding frustrated.
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“She kept making a big deal out of nothing, busy complaining about birthdays and anniversaries. I told her it’s not something I care about, and she just wouldn’t let it go,” he said, sounding furious.
“It turned into this huge argument when I forgot our anniversary, and she left,” he explained, his voice tinged with annoyance.
I sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt as I wondered if I could’ve helped them if I had been more supportive of Lisa when she texted me. “Ben, did she tell you it was important to her?” I asked, feeling like my responses to Lisa played a part in their breakup.
He was silent for a moment. “She told me on many occasions that such things were important to her.”
“But WHO CARES! You never made it a big deal,” he said defensively.
Tired of coddling him, I said, “Well, sir, and that’s why we divorced.”
“That’s mean, Kim,” my ex replied, sounding sad.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I stopped trying because I knew it wouldn’t matter to you,” I replied calmly. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me. Or to her. You have to meet people halfway.”
Ben grumbled something under his breath, and I could tell he wasn’t ready to accept that truth. We ended the call on a neutral note, and I sat there, thinking about Lisa. She deserved someone who would appreciate her efforts and reciprocate her feelings.
A few days later, I bumped into Lisa at the grocery store. She looked tired but managed a smile when she saw me. “Hi, how are you?” she asked politely.
“I’m good, thanks. How about you?” I replied, genuinely concerned.
“I’ve been better,” she admitted. “Ben and I broke up.”
“I heard,” I said softly. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
She sighed. “I couldn’t deal with feeling unimportant. I tried to explain it to him, but he didn’t seem to care.”
I nodded, understanding her frustration all too well. “It’s hard when someone doesn’t value what you do. You deserve someone who will.”
Lisa smiled sadly. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I guess I hoped he could change.”
“Change is hard for some people,” I said gently. “But don’t lose hope. You’ll find someone who values you.”
We parted ways, and I felt a strange sense of closure. Lisa’s struggle mirrored my past frustrations, but it also highlighted how much I had grown since my marriage ended. I had learned to accept Ben’s flaws, but I also realized that I deserved more than what he was willing to give.
That evening, I sat down with my children and talked about their dad. I wanted them to understand that while he had his shortcomings, he loved them deeply. We laughed about his forgetfulness and shared stories of the good times we had as a family.
As I reflected on everything, I felt a deep sense of peace. I had moved on from the hurt and disappointment and was ready to embrace whatever the future held. I hoped Lisa would find the happiness she deserved, and I knew that I had done the right thing by not getting too involved in their relationship.
In the end, it wasn’t about birthdays or anniversaries. It was about finding someone who truly valued and appreciated you for who you are. I did not doubt that Lisa would find that person someday, and I knew I was finally content with my own life.
As I looked at my children, I felt grateful for the love and joy they brought into my life. We had our good and bad moments, but we were a family, and that was what mattered most. And as for Ben, I hoped he would eventually learn to value the important things in life.
For now, I was happy. I had my kids, friends, and a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. And that was more than enough.
If you enjoyed Kim’s story, you’ll love this one about a woman who got pregnant around the same time her son’s girlfriend was also expecting. The son’s girlfriend caused a rift in the family when she made demands of his mother about naming her child.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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