Chapter 1 The Papers

• Marisol
• Dominic hands me the divorce papers as I figure out breakfast.
• I didn’t realize what they were at first. I was still half asleep, standing at the counter with a mug in my hand, trying to decide if I wanted eggs or toast. He came up behind me, set a folder down next to my coffee, and said my name like he always did when he wanted my attention.
• “Marisol.”
• I turned around and saw the folder.
• And I knew immediately.
• Because nothing else makes a man that careful.
• I opened it where I stood. Didn’t sit down. Didn’t ask him to explain. I flipped through the pages once, slow enough to actually take it in. My name. His name. The date. A signature line waiting for me at the end.
• He leaned against the counter while I read. Arms crossed. Calm. Like he’d practiced this moment in his head and already decided how it would go.
• I felt… fine.
• That was the strange part.
• No anger. No anxiety. No tightness in my chest. Just this quiet understanding that something had finally caught up with us.
• When I reached the last page, I picked up the pen from the counter and signed.
• Dominic straightened so fast he knocked his elbow against the granite.
• “You’re not even going to say anything?” he asked.
• “I signed,” I said.
• “That’s not what I meant.”
• I set the folder down and took a sip of my coffee. It had already gone lukewarm. But I didn’t bother reheating it.
• “You can sit if you want,” he said.
• “I’m fine.”
• He stared at me like I was doing soething wrong.
• “You didn’t ask why,” he said.
• “I didn’t need to.”
• “That’s not how this usually goes.”
• I shrugged. “I’m not everyone else.”
• His jaw tightened. “You’re not angry.”
• “No.”
• “You’re not upset.”
• “I didn’t say that either.”
• He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled like this was suddenly more work than he planned on. “This is a marriage, Marisol. Not a business deal.”
• I looked at him. “It started as one.”
• “That doesn’t mean it stayed that way.”
• I almost laughed at that. Almost.
• “You made your choice,” I said. “I’m just respecting it.”
• “You’re acting like you don’t care.”
• “That’s your interpretation.”
• He pushed off the counter and stepped closer. “You really don’t want to talk about this?”
• “There’s nothing to talk about.”
• “You don’t want to know why I’m doing this?”
• I met his eyes. “No.”
• That finally threw him.
• He stood there, staring at me like I’d said something insane. Like I was supposed to chase him down and demand explanations. Like I was supposed to fight for something he’d already decided to walk away from.
• “You think this is easy for me?” he asked.
• “I think you already made peace with it,” I said.
• His mouth opened. Closed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
• “I know enough.”
• Silence settled between us.
• “You’re just going to agree to this,” he said slowly. “No lawyers. No arguments. No questions. Nothing?”
• “Yes.”
• “And you’re not going to regret it?”
• “No.”
• His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”
• I shook my head. “I’m relieved.”
• That one landed.
• “Relieved?” he repeated.
• “Yes.”
• “Why?”
• I thought about the late nights. The excuses. The way he’d stopped touching me like it mattered. The way he thought I didn’t notice because I didn’t say anything.
• “I know about her,” I said.
• The color drained from his face.
• “What?” he snapped.
• “Don’t do that,” I said. “It’s insulting.”
• “You’re wrong.”
• “I’m not.”
• “You don’t have proof.”
• “I don’t need it.”
• He took a step back like he needed space. “You’re making assumptions.”
• “I’m accepting reality.”
• He laughed once, sharp and humorless. “So this is it? You just step aside and let me go?”
• “Yes.”
• “You’re not even going to try?”
• I finally sat down at the table then. More for myself than him.
• “You wanted out,” I said. “You got it.”
• “With nothing?” he asked. “You’re leaving with nothing?”
• I thought of the study. The shelves. The files. The backups. The things he never touched because he thought they were boring.
• “I’ll take my books,” I said.
• He waved a hand. “Take whatever you want.”
• “I will.”
• I stood, picked up the signed papers, and slid them back toward him.
• He stared at them like they were foreign.
• “You didn’t even ask me why,” he said again.
• I paused at the doorway and looked back at him.
• “Because it doesn’t matter,” I said as I stepped away.