“We’re still here, Dad,” I said.

Then I packed my bag, locked the office, and went home.

I opened the windows to let in the cool evening air.

The house was quiet, but the quiet no longer felt like punishment.

No one was waiting to tell me I had misunderstood a bill, misplaced a deed, or failed to appreciate someone else’s success.

I made tea and sat in the reading chair beside the window.

For twenty-eight years I had believed my greatest achievement was keeping our marriage and our company together.