I thought about our courthouse wedding.
Our first apartment.
The months when we lived on cheap noodles because every extra dollar was supposed to be building our future.
I remembered supporting Mark through unemployment.
Debt.
Two missed promotions.
And the year I worked double shifts so we could stay afloat.
I looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
He laughed.
“Don’t make this pathetic, Claire.”
That word should have broken me.
Instead, it cleared my head.
I slowly closed my purse.
Vanessa glanced around the living room.
“Mark said the house is mostly his anyway.”
Mostly his.
Interesting.
The down payment had come from an inheritance my grandmother left me.
And I had every bank record proving it.
Mark pointed toward the stairs.
“You can stay until Sunday.”
Then he added,
“After that, I want the keys.”
I nodded.
“Of course.”
His smile widened.
He mistook calm for surrender.
I went upstairs.
