"Alright then," I said. "I'll strip down if that's what you want." And I did it, just like that. In a few swift motions, I was down to nothing.
"Professor Luna Owen," I said calmly, "please sign the divorce papers. I’m fine walking away with nothing."
The moment Luna heard the words walk away with nothing, she burst out laughing—loud and sharp.
“Cyrus, do you actually think you can walk away clean? You’ve been out of touch with the real world for years. You can’t even land a basic job making three to five grand a month.”
“And who’s going to pay for your brother’s rehab? He’s practically paralyzed.”
“What about your dad’s gambling debts, huh? Or have you forgotten how he got down on his knees, crying like a dog, begging me not to leave you?”
Everything she said hit like a punch to the gut. She knew exactly where to aim—every weak spot, every vulnerability—and she never missed. That was her power over me. That was how she always won.
Bitterness welled up in my chest like something sour I couldn’t swallow.
For the first time, I truly understood what people meant by the broken windows effect—how one small crack, left unchecked, could lead to collapse.