When I Refused to Pay for Dinner, My Husband Threw Wine in My Face. He Never Expected What I Did Next.

For a few minutes, we discussed parking tickets, a leaking faucet at her apartment, and whether her dog had finally stopped stealing socks.

The conversation felt wonderfully unspectacular.

I had once imagined this day as a victory that would make the entire past disappear.

Instead I felt relief, grief, exhaustion, and something quieter that I couldn’t quite name.

I was allowed to feel all of it.

Laura handed me the last sip of her coffee because mine was gone.

“Anything special you want to do?” she asked.

“Go home,” I said.