He nodded, but his jaw tightened again. I didn’t need him to understand fully. That wasn’t the point. He had assumed the day was his to orchestrate, the paperwork his to finalize. Now, everything had changed.

Friday was still on the calendar, but it was no longer his deadline. It was mine.

And for the first time in months, maybe years, I felt that quiet, unshakable clarity: nothing hidden, nothing untouchable. Not him. Not his plans. Not this life we had been building together—or rather, apart, without my consent.

I glanced at the folder in my lap, the receipts, the notices, the copies. Every piece of evidence, every legal safeguard, every documented move—it was all here. I didn’t need to raise my voice. I didn’t need to argue. I just needed to exist in that truth, and the rest would follow.