With that, he snatched his coat from the hook, his movements brusque and filled with irritation. He stormed toward the door, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. I watched him, a mix of sadness and resolve in my eyes.
As he reached the door, I called out calmly, though my voice trembled slightly. "Zane, let's get a divorce."
I saw his back stiffen, his body language betraying the shock of my words. He paused for a moment, but then, with a final slam of the door, he stormed out of the house, leaving me alone in the cold silence that followed.
The echo of the door's slam hung in the air. I stood there, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on my shoulders. The realization of what I had said and the finality of it left me feeling both liberated and hollow.
After a hasty shower, I slipped into my work attire and stepped out of the house, my mind still reeling from the confrontation with Zane. The crisp morning air hit me as I made my way to the shared bicycle stand.