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Midnight.
I stood by the door, pinching the last strike card between my fingers. My phone screen read 11:59 PM.
Just sixty more seconds. This strike would be used because he failed to come home before midnight. Then I could tear it up, and along with it, the last five years.
The doorbell rang.
My heart skipped a beat. My fingers tightened, the edge of the card digging into my palm. Did he actually…
I pulled the door open.
A deliveryman held a Tiffany-blue box, his professional smile flawless. “Mrs. Thorne? A gift from Mr. Julian Thorne. I need your signature.”
At the same instant, my phone buzzed.
【Honey, the server issue is more complicated than we thought. The team needs me here. It’s going to be an all-nighter. Use a strike, on me. Don’t be mad. I’ll bring home your favorite strawberry cream cake in the morning.】
I looked at the screen. I looked at the Tiffany box. I looked at the shattered glass on the floor.
Then, I tore the ninety-ninth strike card.
Not elegantly. Not with ceremony. I dug my nails into the edge and ripped with all my might, listening to the sharp sound of paper fibers tearing apart.
The pieces fell onto the marble floor. The gold foil letters, “Strike 99,” glinted coldly in the light.
My fingers typed on the screen:
【Don’t bother with the cake, Julian.】
【The strikes are all used up.】
【I want a divorce.】
The moment I hit send, my phone exploded with notifications—texts, calls, FaceTime requests. The screen was flooded with the name “Julian Thorne.”
I didn’t open a single one. I just held down the power button and watched the screen go dark. Then I popped out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the trash can full of broken glass.
The deliveryman was still standing there, holding the Tiffany box with an awkward expression.
“I don’t need it,” I said. “Send it back.”
I closed the door, and the apartment fell silent again.
Outside, the lights of Manhattan burned through the night.
Ninety-nine chances.
Ninety-nine “I’m sorrys.”
Ninety-nine “I promise it won’t happen agains.”
Finally, it was over.
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