Then he turned and walked away.
I don’t know how long I stood there.
He had a diploma waiting in one hand.
I had divorce papers shaking in mine.
The crowd kept moving around me. Parents were taking photos. People were cheering. Somewhere nearby, someone popped a bottle of champagne.
I started walking just to have something to do.
To keep my body from collapsing in front of everyone.
I had almost reached the parking lot when someone called my name.
I turned.
It was one of Marcus’s classmates, Daniel.
I had met him maybe four times. He was smart, quiet, and steady, the kind of person who always looked like he had slept eight hours even during medical school.
He took one look at my face and slowed.
“Are you okay?”
I laughed once, sharp and empty.
“My husband just handed me divorce papers at his graduation, so no.”
Daniel’s expression changed instantly.
“Don’t go home alone,” he said.
“What?”
