That version of her felt like a completely different woman from the one who’d just chewed me out on the phone—sharp-tongued, eyes flashing with irritation. I could picture her face perfectly: brows furrowed, lips pressed thin, pure disgust written all over her.
During the photoshoot, the photographer had told her to smile bigger.
She’d laughed and whispered to me, “This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Gotta make it count.”
She must’ve still loved me back then.
She was supposed to disappear after the divorce.
Clean cut.
No more messing with my head.
But here I was, lying in the dark, her angry voice still ringing in my ears while her smiling face stared down at me from the wall. The two versions kept slamming into each other in my brain, making my temples throb worse.
Headache f
