I stood beside my car for a long moment and thought about every time I had forgiven her, every time I had let something go just to keep us from falling apart completely.
Not this time.
If she wanted me gone, I would give her exactly what she asked for without hesitation or apology.
As I drove away, that familiar hollow ache settled into my chest, the same feeling I used to ignore whenever I pretended everything was fine just to hold our family together.
Later that night, I sat alone at my dining table in my apartment in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, still wearing my work clothes because I had not found the energy to change.
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator, and I stared at nothing for a long time before noticing a new email on my laptop screen.
It was from my attorney, Charles Bennett, and the subject line immediately caught my attention.
I opened it slowly, unsure of what I would find, and began reading the document attached to the message.
It was the annual property record for the condo I had once given Aubrey.
I stared at the details, reading each line carefully as if expecting them to change the longer I looked.