Willa was asleep in the next room.

“Do you think Gavin really believed he could get away with it?” I asked.

“I don’t know what he believed.

But people sometimes confuse a plan they repeat often with permission they’ve actually received.”

That sounded painfully familiar.

Gavin had spent years speaking over me at dinner parties, finishing my sentences, deciding what I meant.

Perhaps eventually he had stopped recognizing the difference between my silence and my agreement.

I opened a blank document and began writing the things I did agree to: a safe parenting plan, a fair divorce process, honest financial disclosure, and the right to make decisions about my own property.