For years I had entered that key at ten o’clock every night, a small quiet habit no one else knew existed, least of all the husband who thought he owned everything I was.

It was 9:45.

In fifteen minutes, if I simply did nothing, my father’s lock would close over my husband’s entire world.

Marius believed he had won the war by throwing me into the rain.

He had no idea he had just handed the one person with the key a reason never to turn it again.

I sat in the car and I watched the clock, and at ten o’clock, for the first time in years, I did nothing at all.