He called me, one evening, from his empty house.

And for the first time in a long time, I answered.

“Mariana,” he choked out.

“I don’t think I ever understood how much I lost, the day I let you and the girls walk out that door.” I looked out my kitchen window at my new life, where Chloe was helping Maya with her multiplication tables and Cami was laughing at something on her phone, and the house was full of noise and warmth and genuine life.

“You understood it, Arthur,” I said gently.

“You just always assumed you’d be able to buy your way back in, whenever you finally felt like it.” A long silence.