He Committed Me to an Asylum, Now He’s Begging for Mercy

Five years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband at a 24-hour convenience store at three in the morning.

He was there to buy sanitary pads and painkillers for his wife. I was restocking the shelves.

He was in such a rush that he told me he didn't even need a black bag to cover them.

But when our eyes met, he froze.

"Chloe? How... how have you been?"

I instinctively pulled my sleeve down to hide the scars on my wrist. Without a word, I scanned the items and bagged them.

He didn’t leave. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Are you... do you still hate me?"

I shook my head.