David followed me to the front door as I gathered my coat and my laptop bag.

“Rebecca,” he said, tears on his face.

“Where are you going?

Can we — can we please just talk about this?

Don’t leave like this.” I stopped in the doorway, with the cool rain-washed air coming in and the red and blue light painting the wet driveway, and I turned and looked at him one last time — at the man who had let his father stalk the halls of our home, who had chosen a comfortable lie over his own wife’s safety, who had blamed me to keep the peace and was now standing in the hollow shell of the perfect family he had traded me to preserve.

“I’m going to a hotel tonight, David,” I said.