“A clerk from my office is at the recorder’s office right now.

Your name is still on the deed.

Nothing has been changed.

The house is yours.”

I let out a long, shaking breath.

The house was mine.

After the morning I’d had, that one plain fact felt less like a victory and more like a floor — something solid to put a foot on, after so long falling.

And then, right on top of the relief, the grief came back in, because that is how it works: it does not take turns.