Something in me that had been holding on for a very long time simply let go.

The next morning I set our marriage certificate on the kitchen table.

“I’m filing today,” I said.

No tears.

I had cried the last of them at some point in the night, quietly, and woken up empty and clear.

Trevor scoffed, certain it was a threat.

It was not.

One month later I walked out with two suitcases, my father’s framed portrait, and the portion of our savings that was legally mine.