Time Returns to Warmth, Unaware of Autumn

Summary

Five years after the divorce, I ran into Jason in the designer section of a department store.

The sales associate was just finishing boxing up the tie I’d chosen for my husband. Her tone brightened when she saw Jason approach.

“Mr. Collins, good to see you. The suit your wife selected for you is ready.”

The man gave a slight nod, his gaze lingering on the tie in my hand.

“Add hers to my bill.”

I politely declined, placing a few bills on the counter.

He seemed to sigh.

“Ava,” he said, his voice low, “it’s been so many years. You still hate me, don’t you?”

I just smiled, saying nothing.