I had one supervised visit to Maple Avenue to retrieve belongings before Gavin fully moved out.

Chloe waited outside with the car, and a neutral third party remained nearby.

The kitchen still had the small nick in the countertop where I once dropped a heavy mixing bowl.

The hall closet still smelled faintly of cedar.

Brenda’s things were gone.

My bathrobe, freshly washed but folded carelessly, lay on top of the guest bed.

I picked it up, considered the absurdity of keeping it, and placed it in a donation bag instead.

When I opened my home-office drawer, the red folder sat inside exactly where I had left it.