When we got home, I put Noah in front of his favorite cartoon and locked myself in the bedroom. That’s when the tears finally came.
They weren’t loud or dramatic.
I replayed the past year of our marriage with painful clarity. The late nights. The new password on his phone. The way he stopped asking about my day. The way he felt distant even when he was physically present.
The signs had been there.
I simply hadn’t wanted to see them.
After a while, I washed my face and looked at myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the woman staring back. But beneath the shock and hurt, something stronger was forming.
Resolve.
I picked up my phone and called a family attorney I’d heard good things about. Her name was Susan Miller. Calm. Experienced. Practical.
I didn’t mention the lottery.
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