Patrick tried to step toward me, but I raised my hand.
“Do not come any closer,” I said. “If anything happens to me, these documents will be delivered to the district attorney tomorrow.”
Silence fell heavily over the room. Patrick sank into the chair, suddenly small, suddenly afraid.
“Emma,” he said weakly, “we can fix this.”
I shook my head slowly.
“I fixed everything for years,” I replied. “Your home. Your career. Your lies. Now I am fixing my life.”
I turned to Heather.
“You should leave,” I told her gently. “You can still save yourself.”
She left crying, without looking back.
I placed the folder in front of Patrick.
“Tomorrow we will sign the divorce papers,” I said. “Justice will take its course. I have already done mine.”
I picked up my bag and walked toward the door.
Before stepping outside, I spoke without turning around.
“A woman who stays silent is not always weak,” I said. “Sometimes she is waiting for the exact moment to stand.”
I closed the door behind me.
The evening air in Charleston was cool against my skin. I walked through the quiet streets as the sky softened into shades of gold and blue. I did not know where I was going, but for the first time in years, I was not afraid.