Sarah Whitmore tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she stared into the mirror. The eyes staring back at her weren’t the same ones from a year ago—these were tired, dull, almost soulless. She would never forgive him. Not for the betrayal, not for the lies, and definitely not for making her feel like this. That bastard. He got to move on, live his life, smile in Instagram pictures while she battled insomnia and self-doubt. Her once glowing skin now looked worn, dark circles threatening to become permanent tattoos under her eyes. With a sigh, she picked up the last suitcase sitting on the floor and placed it on the bed, unzipping it half-heartedly. As she folded a hoodie and placed it on the shelf, her eyes drifted to the stash of books already arranged against the wall.

“At least there’s hope for me,” she muttered.She had returned to Queen Mary University for her postgraduate studies not out of pressure, but passion. She loved learning. She could have taken that dull bank job her mum’s friend offered. Sit behind a desk, paste on a smile, and pretend she enjoyed helping people open savings accounts. No thanks.

She wanted more. She was more.

Financially, she was comfortable. She could afford decent meals, a few designer pieces, and the occasional trip. She didn’t need a man to save her. What she hadn’t figured out yet was how to save herself from the ghost of Ethan. That stupid ex. She wondered what he was doing now—probably with his other ex, the one he promised he was done with. Or maybe some new unsuspecting girl who hadn’t yet seen through his rich-boy charm and empty apologies.

“All that money, and still not enough brain cells,” she muttered, flopping down on the edge of the bed.

She chuckled to herself, remembering their last date when Ethan nearly got into a shouting match with the restaurant manager just because she complained her pasta was too cold. Overdramatic. Still, she missed it. She missed him, his kisses, his touches, the sex. The way he used to hold her at night like she was the only girl in the world.

Ugh.Would she ever move on? He was a walking red flag, sure. But at least he cared. Or so she thought.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. That was just the intrusive thoughts talking again. “Someone who cares doesn’t text his ex I miss you at 2 a.m, and definitely wouldn't leave you feeling like you're not enough."

She grabbed her phone and pulled up his Instagram.

“Bitch,” she muttered. He’d followed her again. Her. The ex they fought over. The one he swore was out of his life.

She stared at the screen, jaw clenched, her thumb hovering over the block button. Rage, pain, and a bitter kind of resignation all tangled in her chest.

“Such a bastard.”

And just like that, she knew no amount of wishful thinking would ever bring back the old Ethan. He wasn’t hers anymore. Maybe he never truly was.

A breath escaped her lips shaky, but freeing. Not forgiveness. Not healing. Just a small, defiant act of reclaiming peace.

“Good riddance,” she whispered, tossing her phone aside.

Tomorrow, she’d unpack the rest of her bags. Tonight, she’d sit with the ghosts.

But at least now, she wasn’t opening the door to let them stay.

The next day, Sarah arrived at the salon to touch up her hair nothing drastic, just something to make her feel better. At least if you looked good, you might feel good too.She picked a beige shade for her nails and a soft pink gloss with warm undertones. After restocking her makeup and grabbing some deodorant, she paused by the skincare catalogue.

"Eye masks... Yeah, maybe I should get a bunch. Thanks to that bastard," she muttered under her breath with a bitter smirk. It was infuriating how everything even eye care reminded her of Ethan.

At the counter, she paid, took her small bag of vanity therapy, and walked out with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. The day was warm, the sun gentle. She took a seat at the park nearby, letting the breeze tangle her hair slightly as she watched life unfold around her. Laughter echoed from the playground. Children dashed past with uncontainable joy. Teenage girls in crop tops clutched ice cream cones while giggling with boys too shy to meet their eyes. A small smile tugged at Sarah's lips.

God, to be that innocent again. Just a girl with big dreams and soft skin. No baggage. No betrayal.

An elderly man shuffled past with a shaggy dog, and Sarah found herself watching them until they disappeared behind the trees.

"Maybe I should get a dog," she thought. "At least it would keep me company and maybe keep the loneliness out." As the breeze touched her skin, her mind wandered. Maybe it was time to visit her mom.

She hadn’t been home in two weeks. Not because she didn’t want to, but because meemaw her grandmother had moved in. What was supposed to be a short visit turned into an unspoken stay. Months passed, and now she was part of the furniture. Sarah didn’t hate her meemaw. She just couldn’t stand her. The constant judging. The sideways looks. The endless church talk that sounded like sermons from a woman who smoked in private and had once slept with her own brother-in-law. Yeah. That meemaw. Of course, only a few people knew about that scandal the wife of the brother included.

But that was the thing about people like meemaw: loud about your sins, quiet about theirs.

Sarah’s mom did her best to smooth things over, as always. Her mom sweet, over sacrificing, and always smiling. Married at 19, she barely lived before being forced into the role of wife and mother. Sarah often wondered if that was why she was so protective because deep down, she regretted how fast her life moved before she ever got to know herself.

“They forced her,” Sarah would often think. “Her parents, the church, society. A pregnancy no one wanted to hear about. A marriage they rushed to protect a name.” The family had a reputation to uphold. Church founders. Religious. Respected. There was no room for scandal. So they did what they thought was best: marry her off before anyone found out.

Sarah's mom always tried to make the best of it. She laughed. She worked. But sometimes , just sometimes Sarah would catch her staring out the window with that blank look. The kind of stare that whispered, “I deserved more.”

She would never say it, but Sarah knew. And now, the one thing her mother had clung to, Sarah’s relationship with Ethan had crumbled too.

She remembered the night she called her mom, crying. Telling her the truth. That Ethan had cheated. That he was texting his ex. That it was over.

Her mother had gone quiet on the phone, save for a soft gasp. She didn’t say much. But Sarah could tell something inside her cracked that night. Maybe she saw her own past being repeated. Maybe she realized that the daughter she had protected from her own mistakes was still hurting.

And now here she was. Sitting alone in a park. Coffee cooling in her hands. Her reflection bouncing back at her from the screen of her phone. Still haunted by a man who didn’t deserve her tears.

Maybe it was time to change the story.

Because the truth was her world was about to change. She just didn’t know it yet.