“I think so.

I thought I’d know what this was supposed to feel like.”

“There isn’t a required feeling.”

I thanked him, stepped outside, and called Rachel.

She offered to come over with dinner and a bottle of sparkling cider.

I told her we’d have plenty to celebrate when Grace’s new curtains were up.

That evening, Derek came to collect a box of books and photographs we’d agreed he should keep.

He stood in the doorway of what had once been our bedroom and looked around.