He picked up the papers with trembling hands. An emergency protective order petition. A divorce filing. A medical report documenting delayed treatment due to lack of support at home.

Photos of the blood on the floor. Screenshots of his ignored calls. His party photos with the caption about family coming first.

At the bottom was a handwritten note from me. Cameron, you were right. Family does come first. That’s why you no longer belong in mine.

He sank down onto the stairs.

By the time he reached the hospital, he wasn’t permitted past the lobby. Security had his name. So did the nurses. So did my attorney.

He called me twenty-six times that night. I answered once.