Ryan closed the folder.
“Okay.”
“I need the name of every account you have.
Written down.
Before you leave today.”
He nodded.
“And I need you to understand that showing me this folder doesn’t fix anything.
I know you think transparency now counts for something.
Maybe it does.
But it doesn’t undo the year you spent building a life I wasn’t allowed to see.”
Ryan picked up a pen from the counter.
Pulled a notepad toward him.
Started writing down account numbers.
His hand was steady.
Mine was too.
We were very good, both of us, at appearing calm.
He tore the page off the notepad and slid it across the table.
I picked it up without looking at it and folded it once.
“One more thing,” I said.
“Daniela.
Is it over?”
He looked at me directly for the first time since he had sat down.
“I ended it Thursday night.
After I left here.”
“Does she know it’s permanent?”
“Yes.”
“How did she take it?”
Something moved across his face.
“She said she’d been waiting for me to end it for four months.
She said she knew I wasn’t going to leave you.” He paused.
“She said she was sorry she let it go on as long as she did.”
