Three Years of Pretending

I married Callum Whitmore knowing he resented every second of it. Three years — that was the deal he wanted. A clean split, no mess, no feelings. I refused. I pushed, he pulled away, and somewhere between the fighting and the silence I told myself I felt nothing. Then I saw the future — and in it, I lost everything. My husband. My son. Myself. So I did the one thing I'd never done before: I let him go. No games. No conditions. Just a clean goodbye. I didn't expect him to beg.