Hodg

lawyer again, confirming the immediate processing of the divor

ed them with a detached clinical eye. Sentimental trinkets, clothes that no longer fit the woman I was becoming, gifts from Camden that felt tainted-they all went into donation boxes or the t

one final call to Camden. I needed to inform him that the house was now officially empt

Eliza?" he spat, his to

moved out," I replied, my voice st

lone, you pathetic old woman!" He cursed, a string of vulgarities, then abruptly hung up. A moment later, my phone buzzed with the fami

picked it up, a wry, almost cynical smile touching my lips. The diagnosis was unambiguous: a persistent, aggressive STD. The ir

e last time, a profound sense of finality washed over me. I wasn' t just leaving a house; I was leavin

ed the divorce papers. His phone calls began immediately, a

his is some kind of twisted joke, isn't it?" H

id of any emotional residue. "It's a divorce. You want

mistake! I'll fire him! I'll break up with him! Just come home, please!" He was groveling, a sight I

of glass earlier. It was a tiny red line, a faint echo of the deep lacerations his betrayals had once c

re-read the medical report on your pillow. And I

solicitous voice. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?" It was

uin of my marriage. He still couldn't grasp it. He genuinely believed I would eventually return, crawling

er than I wanted, each day a test of my patienc

with Kai, Camden finally returned home, exhausted. He threw his bag onto the be

he document, his face drained of color. The words, clinical and stark,