everything between.
“Daniel works,” she would say loudly.
“You play with contracts.”
I was a commercial real-estate attorney.
Daniel called it paperwork.
Three months earlier, I overheard Margaret talking to him on the patio.
“She’s too independent,” she said.
“Leave her before she realizes you can do better. Take everything you bought.”
Daniel laughed.
“What about the house?”
“Especially the house.”
That was when I stopped hoping the marriage could be saved.
Instead, I prepared.
Now Daniel moved through the rooms with two movers, pointing out what to take.
“The sectional. Dining table. Bedroom set. Appliances.”
Margaret followed with a clipboard as if running an estate sale.
When Daniel unplugged the refrigerator, he glanced at me.
“You’re seriously not going to say anything?”
“No.”
He frowned.
He expected tears.
Margaret smirked.
“She knows she can’t stop you.”
NEXT PAGE
Daniel picked up the keys to the Mercedes from the counter.
