Divorce: My Unwritten Happy Ending

ck to the hou

my lawyer had couriered over sitting on the co

came back with a glass of warm water with honey, just the way

s," she sa

old Chloe, the one who would trace patterns on my back until I fell asleep, the o

ure except a mattress on the floor and two folding chairs. We lived on instant noodles and cheap wine, but we were h

my chest, "we'll have a house so big we could get l

But the love and l

r to the papers on the table, and the

a final, desperate plea from a drowning man. "Send them aw

d, the words te

forgive you. I can forget this ever happened.

ng to hear the words that could somehow glue t

n't love. It wasn't even anger. It was pity. The kind of

r silence was my answer.

chiming sound that was grotesquely out of

the door. I knew who it was

g a casual but expensive-looking linen shirt and jeans. He looked relaxed, con

led and creased. My tie was loose, my hair a mess. I was a guest in my own home.

low, smug smile.

a small finger at me. His voice, hig

ooking up at Chloe.