Margaret Doyle — The House They Thought Was Theirs
I shook my head.
“I don’t know that.
I know he wanted us both to have a future, and he didn’t want one future to depend on destroying the other.”
She turned away before I could see her expression.
I watched the movers load the final boxes.
The condo looked ordinary through the windows.
It was only a home.
We had spent years treating it like a throne.