Everyone Thought I Couldn’t Survive Without My Husband’s Money — I’d Quietly Built My Own Exit Years Before
Inside it was a petition for divorce.
A request for temporary primary custody of Leo.
Copies of all his medical records, organized.
Enrollment papers for an accessible school that could accommodate a child recovering from a serious leg injury.
And a signed lease for a small furnished apartment near Charleston, South Carolina, a place with warm weather that would be kind to healing bones, far enough away to be a genuine fresh start.
I want to be honest about that folder, because it is the heart of everything.