"Where are you?" Demanding. Impatient. "I'm at the new house. Why aren't you here?"
I stood in the dark, the wind biting through my jacket. "Do you need something?"
A pause. "Are you crying?"
"I'm not crying." My voice came out hoarse. "If you have something to say, say it. I'm busy."
She seemed thrown. "Today in the car—you mentioned resigning. I don't know what got into you, but I think we should talk this over properly."
"There's no need."
I took a breath.
Said the words I'd held inside for so long.
"I don't want to marry you anymore."
