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50 years. Her grandparents were married for half a fucking century, and now they spent their second honeymoon on a mediterranean cruise. The card was from Nice, oozing sunshine and happiness.

Acrid bile gathered in her throat as she took the next paper from the pile of mail.

A letter from her lawyer. No divorce in her circle had ever been peaceful, and hers wouldn’t be either.

Three years ago, she had believed – and sworn an oath – that it would be forever. But nothing was forever, not for her generation.

If Paul wanted a war, he would get a war.


Written for the 99-words-challenge on the Carrot Ranch.

March 9, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a honeymoon story. It can be between a couple before, during or after the honeymoon. Or it can refer to a honeymoon period. Go where the prompt leads.

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