— The nurse said Mark was here?

Harley gave a small nod, smiling faintly:
— Yes, he came for a divorce.

— Are you alright?

— More than alright.

John took the seat beside her, set the flowers down, and pulled out an envelope.

— These are the divorce papers your attorney asked me to hold. You told me: if Mark brought them first, you’d sign this set and send it back.

Without flinching, Harley opened the envelope and signed. Then she turned to John, her expression glowing with quiet strength:

— From now on, I’ll live for myself. I won’t bend over backwards to be a “good wife.” I won’t fake strength when I’m drained.

— I’m here. Not to replace anyone, but to support you if you’ll let me.

Harley gave a small nod. A single tear slipped down—not of heartbreak, but of peace.

One week later, Mark received a priority mail envelope. Inside was the finalized divorce decree. Attached was a small handwritten note:

“Thank you for walking away, so I’d stop clinging to someone who already let go.

The one left isn’t me.

It’s you—forever missing the woman who once gave you all her love.”

In that moment, Mark finally realized: the person who thought he was ending things was the one truly left behind.