One thing Lincoln was right about is that things would get more expensive. I’m not going to lie, there’s a part of me that regrets divorcing him and not taking more money, because right now I’m struggling.
I’ve helped pay for my dad’s medical bills and surgery for his back from when he had that accident with the guy who torpedoed a truck into the back of his car. Surprisingly, a lot of the worst bills are already covered by some miracle. But the here and there visits still gouge into any savings.
It’s not like Lincoln and I had that much at the time. We didn’t talk about much, and the only other time he probably mentioned something outside of our issue was when he texted me to say that Walnut had passed.
That’s the last time I remember crying about anything related to Lincoln. Poor Walnut. But I had to leave everything behind and just make a clean break away from Lincoln. The lawyers pretty much handled everything, and he and I barely had to speak with each other.
He’s doing well, and that’s good. The gladness I feel is genuine.
Of course Jada now knows everything. Impossible to hide it from anyone, especially with Lincoln being on the TV. Even before that point, Jada had figured it out.
Jada hates Lincoln with a passion, but she’s probably doing that more for my sake. The woman has tried over and over again to hook me up with this guy and that, until I had to speak up and tell her, for the love of God, to stop, because the last thing I want to do is jump into another full-fledged relationship after having gotten divorced only recently.
The dating market is also sour.
Men are dogs. No more.
Lincoln… was the best of them, at least I thought so, and even he couldn’t be honorable at the end. So then what hope is there?
Nah.
To hell with all of that nonsense.
Romance is a waste of time. Then the man had the audacity to tell me not to be bitter.
I had started out wishing nothing but pain and hurt to befall him, but after the anger and betrayal started to ebb away, all that was left was love and forgiveness, because when you truly love someone, you don’t wish them harm. You want them to succeed, despite how they feel about you.
Kids and parents have the same horrible setup. Kids are an extension of their parents via their genetics. The kids can be as horrible as possible to their parents, and yet the parents will still love them. If the kid comes back crying to Mommy and Daddy for help after cussing them to their face and not having spoken to them for many years, Mommy and Daddy will be right there ready to accept them and help them, because helping their kid brings them satisfaction, because their kid is a part of them.
That’s how Lincoln felt to me. We’re not related by blood, but he became my family. We shared our DNA through our intimacy and our bond. Nobody could tell me different.
But now it’s broken. However, the latent love I still have for him gives me satisfaction through seeing him doing well.
Not Sarah, though.
I hope that bitchchokeson a dick anddies.
-??-
Chapter 25
Lincoln’s POV
By the time the segment ends, my face is still plastered on every screen in the Helion atrium. Reporters shouting questions, executives shaking hands, investors buzzing like they’ve just witnessed the second coming of consumer technology. It’s loud and everything Helion wanted the launch to be.
But, shit I’m exhausted.
Ever since Auralis went live, my workdays have been a blur. Testing updates, recording micro-interaction sequences, sitting through three-hour meetings where everyone pretends they understand what“implicit forgiveness signals” actually means. There’s this constant stream of post-launch patches, telemetry readouts, behavior-drift audits. Everyone wants a piece of me. Everyone wants a quote, a soundbite, a statement for the company feed.
I get congratulated so much that the words don’t sound like words anymore. It’s all just noise. Brain-rattling noise.
By the time I drive out of Hudson Vale and toward the outskirts into New Denver, I feel like I’ve finally exhaled. The city lights fade behind me, swallowed into the violet evening. My house sitsquietly tucked behind a row of wind-bent birch trees. It’s half the size of the one I lived in before.
I couldn’t stay in that house after… aftersheleft.
The lock clicks open, and before I’ve even kicked off my shoes I hear the soft mew. Morris barrels toward me. Seven inches tall, all fluff, big green eyes like he’s permanently surprised.
“Hey buddy.” I scoop him up. His little purr motor starts immediately, rumbling against me.
