I signed every page. Then Pearl helped me pack. Three large suitcases held Gordon’s clothes, shoes, toiletries, and electronics, and we lined them up neatly beside the front door.

After Pearl left, I sat on the living-room sofa with the legal documents spread across the coffee table.

At 5:30, the front door opened. Gordon came in first, his footsteps heavy across the hardwood. “Jocelyn!” Rita entered behind him, still complaining about the rideshare and her aching feet.

Gordon marched toward the living room, clearly prepared to unleash every grievance he’d rehearsed on the drive home.

Then he saw the suitcases. He stopped instantly. Rita walked into his back, then looked past him. The room went completely silent.

I stayed seated. Gordon looked from the luggage to the stack of documents on the table. “What is this?”