Not what was fair, not what I deserved, not what made sense on paper.
What I actually wanted, when I sat in a quiet house at ten o’clock on a Tuesday night with tea going cold in my hands.
I wanted the marriage I had thought I had.
I knew now that that exact marriage had never existed.
But I didn’t know yet whether a different one could.
That was still the question.
I picked up my phone and sent Ryan a text.
*Same time next week?*
He replied in under a minute.
*Yes.
Same place?*
I set the phone down.
Drank my tea.
*Yes*, I typed back.
*Same place.*
Outside, the street was quiet.
Somewhere two doors down, a dog barked once and went silent.
The refrigerator hummed.
The house settled around me the way houses do at night, small sounds that meant nothing and everything.
I had a son who slept soundly two doors down and called me every morning before his feet hit the floor.
I had a lawyer who had told me I was in a strong position.
I had a sister who came over on weekends and didn’t push.
I had four miles of road I could run in the dark without thinking.
