“What destroys lives,” I said quietly, “is thinking other people belong to you.”
The words surprised even me.
They just… came.
Nathan ran a hand through his hair.
“You’re being irrational.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“But I’m done.”
He stared at me, searching my face for the hesitation I used to carry.
It wasn’t there anymore.
I wasn’t trying to convince him.
I was just telling the truth.
And truth, once spoken clearly, has weight.
He scoffed.
“Fine. Go stay with your mother for a few days. You’ll calm down.”
“My mother died three years ago,” I said.
The words landed quietly.
Nathan looked away first.
Madison shifted again, uncomfortable now that things weren’t entertaining anymore.
“Well… we can talk later,” she muttered. “No need for police.”
But it was already too late.
The officers stood in the middle of the room, silent witnesses to a life unraveling.
I picked up the last box.
It was lighter than the others—photos, a notebook, the coffee maker. Small things that once felt permanent.
Nathan watched me walk toward the door.
“You’ll regret this,” he said.
Maybe he believed that.
Maybe he needed to.
Because if I didn’t regret it, then something else would have to be true.
That he had crossed a line he couldn’t undo.