Auditing My Ungrateful Ex

Oliver and Ivy were the golden prodigies of the university physics department, sweeping every grant and symposium award across the state.

Whenever they talked shop, their speech would slip into a machine-gun cadence of Greek variables and theoretical jargon that felt impenetrable to anyone else in the room. Sitting beside them, I might as well have been listening to a dead language.

Oliver called it being on the "exact same wavelength."

In our two years together, the only wavelength I ever occupied was handling their DoorDash orders, tracking down their packages, and reformatting their…