Twelve Months Later, Ethan Came Back With a Sleeping Newborn and a Broken Suitcase

I looked at the walls of the living room.

I had painted the trim in this room myself twelve years ago.

I had spent countless weekends picking out the curtains and putting together the wooden bookshelves.

“You can’t just give away our home,” I said.

“My name is on the mortgage.”

“The title is solely in my name, Nora.

The transition is already final.

The clerk stamped it.”