Some small part of me had still wanted the papers to be something else.
Keith had given me no such mercy.
So I made my decision final.
I began preparing to end the marriage.
I did not announce it immediately.
I followed the attorney’s advice, separated what needed separating, protected the documents, and made sure I understood what belonged to whom before emotion turned the house into chaos.
Keith noticed my calm and misunderstood it.
He thought he was winning.
A few nights later, he returned to the romantic version of himself.
He brought home dessert from a bakery I liked and poured coffee in the courtyard.
“I hate how tense we’ve been,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Then let’s stop fighting.”
“We’re not fighting.”
He smiled.
“Exactly.
So sign the papers, and we never have to discuss it again.”
I looked through the window at the living room where my father used to sit every Sunday morning reading the newspaper.
Never let anyone make you feel guilty for protecting it.
“Bring the papers tomorrow,” I said.
Keith’s entire body relaxed.
“Really?”
“Tomorrow evening.
We should settle everything.”
He reached for my hand.
“I knew you’d understand.”
I let him believe that.
The next evening, he came home early.
Eleanor arrived ten minutes later.
That surprised me, although perhaps it shouldn’t have.
She stepped into my home wearing the same pleasant smile she used whenever Keith was watching.
“I thought such an important family moment deserved support,” she said.
Family moment.
The cruelty of the phrase almost made me laugh.
Keith placed the property envelope on the dining table.
He had arranged pens beside it.
Eleanor sat across from me like a witness at a ceremony she had already decided would end in victory.
“You look nervous, sweetheart,” she said.
“I’m fine.”
Keith pushed the papers toward me.
“Take your time.”
For once, he meant the opposite.
I put my own folder on the table.
His eyes moved to it.
“What’s that?”
“The documents I had reviewed.”
Eleanor’s smile weakened.
Keith leaned back.
“I told you those papers were straightforward.”
“They are.”
“Good.”
“They would put my parents’ house into both our names.”
“Our house,” he corrected.
The room became very quiet.
I looked at him.
“No.
