Once upon a time, I’d thought he was the love of my life. I’d been so swept up by his good looks, his deceptively sweet words, and the magic of falling in love abroad like in the rom-coms I watched so often. His proposal was supposed to mark the start of our happily ever after. But happily ever afters didn’t always end so happily, and now, after age and experience stripped the rose tint off my glasses, I saw him with crystal clarity. His hair was too perfect, his clothes too pressed, his smile too fake. His words dripped with entitlement instead of a teasing lilt, and what I’d mistaken for
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