Game Over, My Mr. Hockey

oe

away at my laptop, using the templates Sloan

Saturday. I cam

shouts drifted

ler sat on the nearby sofa, sipping her tea and watching him lazily. A few boo

ame held my only photogr

down," I said, my vo

ll hand jerked. The frame cr

id out from the debris, a shard of glass scratching its surface

of Caleb, her expression one of feigned concern. "Chloe,

son. Startled by my express

ow," Chandler said, putting on her pitifu

. He saw the scene: Chandler's anxious expression, Caleb's

urrowed, clearly having

me, Chloe. Do you have to be so

, slow and deliberate, and carefu

provoke him. "Chloe

photo for him to see. He froze. He had al

I said coldly. "Because even if I d

ether it was tactics on the ice or strategies for runnin

on Caleb's behalf. I'll make it up

nd worked quickly. This was the perfec

think a

h of relief. Caleb, once soothed, resum

into the study with a

. He looked up, his expression softened by lingering guil

villa on the outskirts of town. There are also some company d

ting me to demand something far more extravag

reement, followed by some innocuo

nized the familiar corporate letterhead, and

d to stay steady. I quietly slid the divorce papers underneath the authoriz

The moment he finished, I smoothly pulled it

one," I sa

in the blank space next to "Bradly Gordon," his signature app

as d

divorce papers tightly

like holding a ti

older away before he c

turned back to his screen, a

a hollow emptiness washing over me. Three years of m

Divorce was only the beginnin