The sofa that Kelsey liked to sit on while scrolling through her phone belonged to me. The dining table where Scott once hosted friends and accepted praise for a beautiful home belonged to me. The pendant lighting above the island belonged to me. Even the curtain rods belonged to me.
When the truck arrived, the neighbors watched with polite curiosity while the movers worked quickly and carefully. Scott was at the office and had no idea what was happening.
By the time he returned that evening, the house echoed.
Now he stood in the middle of that echo, staring at empty walls.
“This is ridiculous,” he said.
Kelsey stepped carefully around the room as if the floor might accuse her. “It feels like a rental,” she complained.
Scott looked at me again. “You could have left the basics.”
“I did,” I replied.
He frowned. “What basics?”
“The walls,” I said.
He did not find that amusing.
The divorce process moved faster than anyone expected because the agreement was simple. Scott kept the house. I kept my property. The documents were clear and signed.