Thirty Days to Freedom

When Ayden Baldwin ignored me, who was stuck in an elevator, freaking out from claustrophobia, just so he could deliver cold medicine to his assistant, I filed for divorce.

Ayden signed his name without hesitation and smiled at his friend. "She's just throwing a tantrum. Her parents are gone. I'm all that she's left. She won't leave me.

"Besides, isn't there a thirty-day cooling-off period? If she regrets it, I'll be the bigger person and take her back."

The next day, he posted a lovey-dovey pic with his assistant, captioned: "Capturing every shy moment of yours."

Counting the days, I packed up my belongings and made a phone call.

"Uncle, please book me a ticket to Burville."