“I do not want a public fight,” she said. “I only want this to end and I do not want to carry his debts.”
Rebecca reviewed the documents carefully and paused when she reached the loan contract. “You did not sign this,” she observed.
“No.”
“That helps you a lot,” the attorney replied. “There are legal options available. What about the apartment, do you want to keep it?”
Megan thought about the kitchen, the endless echo of the word chicken, and the heavy silence that followed every insult. She shook her head slowly.
“No,” she answered. “I want to leave.”
Scott still had no idea that the quiet woman he mocked every evening had already made the most important decision of her life. From that moment everything moved quickly as if time itself had been waiting for her courage.
Megan opened a new bank account in her own name, changed every password she used, and transferred her small income there. She packed her belongings with calm precision including her sketchbooks, colored pencils, several sets of embroidery threads, a few clothes, and photographs of her mother.
One afternoon Scott noticed a cardboard box standing near the apartment door.
“What is that supposed to be?” he asked irritably.