I’ll Just Be Friends With My Ex-Husband

’t believe whatever he said.
Even saying I love you and saying I like you began seldom.

I began to feel that every word from him was a sweet lie.

When that happened, it felt as though bugs were crawling all over my body.
I endured eight years hanging on to those words

I thought they must have been nothing but pretty lies for the purpose of soothing me.

But now he’s eight years old.

He was no longer an age where he could tell skillful lies like before.
His honesty made me smile.

So I whispered something worse, “Yeah.
Maybe I am, maybe I’m not the one for you.”

“Don’t do that, Lulu.”

“Why should I follow you?”

Gerald reached out desperately.
Moving slowly, he grabbed my hands tightly.

“Don’t do that,” Gerald whispered.
“It’s my fault.”

Tears filled his big eyes.
I was speechless by the appearance of the mysterious unicorn.
I didn’t expect to see Gerald crying.

Gerald had always been precocious when he was young.
Of course, it was not easy to see Gerald cry like that.
Him not crying was better than witnessing him cry.

Gerald’s eyes were filled with tears.

What I suffered for eight years felt a little rewarding.

“It’s all my fault, Lulu.”

I’m sure he’ll be serious now.

That’s what you’re saying right now to deceive me, but with pure intentions.

Strangely, I felt relieved.

* * *

I jumped off the wagon.

I didn’t say anything as the previous guy treated me the way he did.
And now, the eyes of the person following me were red.

The current person did nothing wrong.
The child that he was had always been sincere, devoted, and warm to me.

I should feel guilty, but I didn’t feel that way at all.

Instead, it was pleasant to see a person like him shed tears.

Am I becoming a weirdo?

But it seemed that Gerald had opened my eyes to this dangerous taste.

All right, my ideal type from now on is a man who cries well and works well at night, giving me a passionate love that I craved for so long.

“This way.”

I was still holding my hand in Gerald’s stubbornness from the carriage.
So I had no choice but to endure it, considering the fact that he was an eight-year-old kid.

It might be because of Gerald’s desperation that he never let go of my hand even though he was sweating.

It was rather satisfying.