“You’re still their father, and you’re still Austin’s father, and living across town doesn’t let you off the hook for your money or your parenting for one second.”

Peter looked down at the floor, fresh tears dropping off his chin onto his work boots.

“Are you asking me for a divorce, Claire?” he asked, his voice barely louder than the hum of the appliances.

“I don’t know what the future of our marriage looks like, Peter, but I do know trust can’t be rebuilt in the same room where it was killed,” I told him honestly.

He got up slowly, nodding in quiet acceptance as he turned toward the stairs to pack his clothes.