Chapter 16
A tear slid down my cheek.
“Thank you.”
“I wish I'd listened.”
“So do I.”
We stayed on the line another minute.
Then I told him goodbye.
And this time, I meant it.
The following week, I met with my attorney, a practical woman named Ellen Porter who had helped a friend through her own divorce.
We reviewed the house, retirement accounts, savings, insurance policies, and the financial records accumulated during twenty-seven years of marriage.
It was strange to see a life reduced to columns of numbers.
A home.
Two vehicles.
Investment accounts.
Furniture.
Insurance.
The countless practical things Daniel and I had spent years building together.
Ellen noticed me staring at the paperwork.
“Are you having second thoughts?”
I shook my head.
“No. I'm just realizing how much of a marriage exists on paper after it stops existing everywhere else.”
She nodded.
“Take your time reviewing everything. We want a fair agreement, not a rushed one.”
I appreciated that.
I wasn't interested in punishing Daniel financially.
Nor was I willing to walk away from what we had built because I felt guilty about ending the marriage.
For years, I had confused keeping the peace with being fair.
I wasn't going to make that mistake again.
The difficult conversations came next.
Sophie called the evening after I told her I intended to file.
“Mom, are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She was quiet.
Then she said, “I think I'm relieved.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because you've sounded miserable for months.”
I swallowed.
“I didn't realize it was so obvious.”
“Mom, we noticed things long before you separated.”
I sat down.
“What things?”
She hesitated.
“Dad stopped paying attention when you talked. He'd interrupt you or check his phone. Sometimes you'd tell a story, and he'd act like you were taking too long.”
I felt a familiar sting.
“Sweetheart—”
“And you'd apologize.”
I didn't answer.
“You apologized for talking, Mom.”
My eyes filled.
Children noticed more than parents realized.
Even adult children.
Especially adult children.
“I didn't want you and Adam involved,” I said.
“I know. But we were already part of the family.”
She took a breath.
“Dad told us the marriage had been dead for years. I believed him at first. Then I remembered how excited you were about that anniversary dinner you planned two years ago, and how disappointed you looked when he canceled.”
I remembered that evening.
The restaurant reservation.