He had handed me certainty, and certainty, however brutal, is the one thing that finally sets a person free to act.

So yes, I thanked him.

He thought I was being dramatic.

I was being sincere.

He had spent seven years keeping me confused, and in one sentence he had made everything clear, and clarity was the only thing I had ever really needed to walk out that door.

It is a strange thing to be grateful to the person who broke your heart for finally, cleanly, finishing the job — but I was, and I am, because the break was what let me go.

I took my house keys out of my bag and I set them, without any drama at all, on the marble console table.