Sasha’s smile didn’t waver. “This? But Mike gave it to me. It looks better on me anyway.”
My daughter’s voice cut through my protest before it even left my throat. “Mom, don’t be dramatic. Grandpa’s dead. Let her have it.”
I waited for someone—anyone—to stand by me. Nico? Mike? But they just looked past me like I was a stain on the carpet. So I swallowed the anger, pressing it down until it turned cold.
“Of course,” I said softly. “Keep it.”
Sasha smirked. “Good girl.”
They left in a swirl of laughter and rolling suitcases, Micah waving her sticky fingers in my direction before bounding into the car. I stood by the gate until they were nothing but dust in the driveway.
Then I moved. I packed the last of my clothes, folding them with care like they were precious even if they were decades old. I pulled off my wedding ring, the metal cold and heavy in my palm. I placed it on the kitchen table beside the divorce papers—my final gift to the life that had caged me.
One last thing—I changed the passcode on the house, locking every door they once slammed in my face. My bag was heavy, but my chest felt lighter than it had in years.