When we divorced, I kept the house.

I assumed Diana would eventually move since Harold no longer lived next door.

She didn’t.

When I cautiously mentioned it, she looked offended.

“Why would I move? I like this neighborhood.”

“Harold doesn’t live here anymore, Diana.”

“This is my home now. You don’t get to decide where I live.”

At the time, I thought having my ex-mother-in-law next door was merely annoying.

I had no idea how much she was actually costing me.

So she remained in her house.

I remained in mine.

And I continued doing what I had always done.

I kept quiet.

I told myself that without Harold between us, Diana would eventually lose interest in interfering with my life.

I was wrong.

That summer, my children went to stay with my mother, who lived three hours away.

The house became unusually peaceful.

“Have fun,” I told them when they left. “I’m going to miss you.”