Burning The Bridge To My Ex-Husband

Moving forward is the only way. Pass me the matches.

Photo by Paul Bulai on Unsplash

Tomorrow would have been my ninth wedding anniversary. Our wedding was held in a tiny six-hundred-year-old chapel on the grounds of a Scottish Castle. I had chosen it because they had once hidden Covenanters there. Thick cold granite walls and worn stone floors. Hundreds of years of footsteps and knees pressed down in prayer. I wanted that aura of…