The Spring With Him Ended Seven Years Ago

Seven years after Jackson and I split, we met at the City Clerk’s office. He was picking up his marriage license; I was there for my divorce.

Jackson smirked at me. “You went on about love when you cheated. Now you’re here getting divorced?”

I replied calmly, “I’ve always been bad at judging people.”

His face turned cold for a moment. Then he showed everyone my secondhand app and announced loudly: “Seven years married, and you’re still selling what I gave you — three million six hundred eighty thousand in total.”