The Paper Trail of Our Failures Novel Chapter 4

The days without Orlando passed quickly. Before I knew it, I only had a handful of days left before my departure.

Even though I hadn’t spoken to him, Kristen kept me updated on him and Carolina.

Apparently, they’d had a huge fight—he’d even stormed out of a party and left her there, humiliated.

Rumor had it I was the reason behind their argument.

I just laughed dismissively.

I wasn’t that lovesick fool anymore—the one who used to refresh Instagram endlessly, hoping to catch some sign of him or Carolina, ready to rush to him at the first crack in their relationship just to tell him I was the one who loved him the most.

Besides, couples in the heat of romance always made up quickly after a fight.

So what if I was the reason? Hadn’t I always been a tool to spice things up in their relationship?

Still, it was undeniable—after that, Orlando started calling me more often. I either declined his calls or made up excuses not to see him.

The day before my flight, he asked me to go to the Adele concert with him.

“I booked the tickets,” he said. “Meet me tonight, alright, Gretch?

“It’s our wedding anniversary. You’re not going to turn me down today, are you?”

He’d never sounded so humble before.

In the past, he’d just crook a finger, and I’d come running, eager to please—only for him to turn away in the end for Carolina’s sake.

But this time, I didn’t know what to say.

Because today wasn’t our wedding anniversary—it was the anniversary of our fourth remarriage.

After all the breakups and makeups, it had probably never crossed his mind that I’d meticulously remember everything related to him.

In the end, I agreed. Not for him—but because I really did want to see Adele.

That night, I waited at the entrance for a long time, but Orlando never showed.

Finally, a voice message came through. I clicked play, and his guilty voice filled the air, mixed with the noisy backdrop of the concert and Carolina’s soft laughter.

“I’m sorry, Gretch. Cara isn’t feeling well. I have to take her to the hospital.

“We have plenty of anniversaries ahead. After she leaves tomorrow, I’ll accompany you to do whatever you want. Alright?”

The concert had already started. Adele’s mellow voice echoed through the night.

“Never mind, I’ll find someone like you…

“I wish nothing but the best for you, too…”

I closed the chat and opened Instagram for the first time in a month.

Right there, near the top of my feed, was a post from Carolina—a selfie with Orlando at the concert, uploaded just minutes earlier.

“Don’t forget me, I beg…

“I remember you said…”

The lyrics felt deafening, mocking me for agreeing to come, for that tiny shred of hope I’d carried with me on the way here.

Now, even that last bit of hope was gone.

After all, this was the seventh divorce. I should’ve known better, shouldn’t I?

But it didn’t matter. This was the last time.

I went straight to the airport and sat there all night, my heart completely still.

At 7 a.m., I checked in for my flight.

Orlando messaged me on WhatsApp, asking when we should remarry. I didn’t reply—I just blocked his contact.

At 8 a.m., I was in line for boarding.

Orlando called. I didn’t answer and instead blocked his number.

At 9 a.m., I was seated on the plane.

As the flight attendant announced that all electronic devices should be switched to flight mode, my phone rang one last time. It was Kristen—or so I thought.

Then I heard Orlando’s tense voice. “Gretch, where are you?”