Julian was on the couch watching a show when I walked in. He looked up. “Why isn’t there breakfast on the table yet?”
“I’m not your maid, Julian.”
He scrunched his nose. “What is that smell?”
I ignored him and walked past him. I didn’t have time for him. I had bigger fish to fry. I went straight to the bathroom and scrubbed myself clean. Then I simply walked to the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee.
By the time Isaac came downstairs, coffee was already on the table — and so were the papers.
“Can you sign these?” I asked in a calm voice. “They’re for approval to remake our daughter’s headstone. The old one cracked.”
He barely looked up. “Now? I’m late.”
“It’ll only take a moment.”
He looked like he wanted to disagree, but then his phone lit up with a phone call.
Naomi’s name lit up his screen. Of course.
He answered the call, and his voice softened in a way it never did for me anymore. While he spoke, I slid the pen toward him. He scrawled his signature on every line without reading a word and left mid-conversation, still murmuring to her.
The moment the door shut behind him, I exhaled.
Divorce papers.
He’d just signed away our marriage and my freedom in one distracted moment.