I’m No Longer the Girl Who Waited for Him Novel – Seven years after my divorce from Damian Cole, we ran into each other at the middle school bus station. He was dropping off his stepson for summer camp. I was the teacher in charge of the trip. I carefully went over the camp details with him.
He listened carefully, every bit the responsible parent. But when I addressed him distantly as Mr. Cole, he froze for a moment. “Autumn, you seem… different now.” I looked down, busy adjusting the microphone, and didn’t answer. Truthfully, I had changed quite a lot. At the very least, I no longer waited around foolishly for him. … “Ms. Reed! There you are, the bus is waiting for you.” A girl with a high ponytail jogged toward me from a distance.
She was one of the students attending the camp and the class monitor, Nina Carter. I smiled and replied, “Just checking the parent information. I’ll be right there.” Nina’s eyes followed my line of sight, landing on Damian. A flash of admiration lit up her expression. “You must be Tyler’s father, right? I saw your photo in a finance magazine.” “I heard you’re a top entrepreneur in Sunnydale, and that you treat Tyler incredibly well. We’re all so envious.” Tyler Cole—Damian’s stepson.
The same boy he once vowed to protect no matter what. Damian offered a polite smile and, almost instinctively, glanced over at me. “He calls me Dad. Of course I treat him well.” Once I confirmed the documents, I tucked them neatly back into my folder. The zipper on my bag jammed, stuck on the fabric lining. I pulled out a pair of scissors to cut it loose but accidentally sliced my finger. Drops of blood fell to the ground like beads.
Damian’s brow furrowed. He grabbed my wrist, sounding genuinely concerned. “Don’t move, let me check.” I glanced at him and subtly pulled my hand away. “It’s fine. This isn’t appropriate.” He hesitated. “Wait here, I’ll go buy you some antiseptic.” I flicked off the blood carelessly and declined calmly. “Really, it’s not necessary. I should go.” As I turned away, a leaf spun through the air and landed at Damian’s feet. The doors of the summer camp bus shut firmly in front of him.
I took the front passenger seat and pulled out a wet wipe to clean the spot on my wrist where he’d touched me. The driver, a seasoned gossip with a knack for prying, chuckled lightly and remarked, “That man in the suit, he must be some big shot, huh? Whoever marries him is set for life.” I gave a soft laugh, saying nothing. It had been seven years since my divorce from Damian. Seeing him again now, my heart stayed calm, undisturbed.
I’ve long accepted that we’re like two parallel lines never meant to meet again. He chased his version of love. I kept hold of my quiet stability. I had nearly forgotten that I once gave my all for him, while he was the reason I lost one child after another, the one who pushed me into the abyss with his own hands.