Goodbye, I'm Busy Starting My New Life

On our wedding day, Carter Hall's father took his own life in our new home. He left a suicide note, blaming me for his death. From that day forward, Carter despised me to the core. He said, "Lindsey Thomson, you deserve to rot in hell, atoning for your sins for the rest of your life."

Eventually, just as he wished, I wandered the streets, mute and half-insane, living a life worse than a stray dog. But then, he regretted it.

Someone snapped a picture of me, filthy and rummaging through a dumpster for plastic bottles, and posted it online. It quickly went viral, sparking a storm of comments.

“The prettiest dumpster diver.”

“Hey, quiet little one, the netizens seem to be really interested in you.”

I took small bites of a bagel, listening quietly as Marcus Dale read the comments aloud.

He pushed his hair back and continued reading from his phone.

“Isn’t she Lindsey Thomson, the eldest daughter of the Thomson family?”

“I’ve got the photos as evidence—it’s definitely her. She’s the one who obsessed over Carter Hall and even caused his father’s death!”

At this, Marcus fell silent. My entire body went rigid, and I almost dropped the bagel. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the enlarged photo on his screen.

The woman was smiling brightly, while the man beside her looked indifferent. It was a picture from our wedding day.

It had been three years since I last heard that name. The flutter in my heart had long since been replaced by fear. My first instinct was to run.

“Don’t worry, quiet little one. I’ll protect you. Soon, I’ll take you far away from here.”

Marcus noticed my reaction. He didn’t ask me anything; he just comforted me gently.

For three years, I had been homeless, scorned by everyone. Only Marcus was willing to approach me, to help me. He often said these words to me. Though I'm not smart, I understood in my heart that this time, he truly couldn't help me.

I returned to my rundown shack, gathered up the recyclables I had collected, and prepared to sell them before disappearing. But no matter how quickly I moved, I was still too late.

As I dragged the bag to the door, a cold, male voice cut through the air.

“Lindsey Thomson, where do you think you’re going?”

In the sweltering summer sun, a chill ran down my spine. Even after three years of not hearing it, I recognized that voice instantly.

My palms turned clammy, clutching the bag tightly as my heart pounded against my chest. The terror I had buried deep inside surged back, overwhelming me.

Footsteps echoed on the ground as he approached me, closer and closer.

Finally, unable to stand, I collapsed, curling up on the ground, my body trembling uncontrollably.

Carter Hall.

He still wasn’t willing to let me go.

......

For the past decade, I had loved Carter desperately. But he had hated me just as