"You might in three months."
That almost made her laugh.
For half a second, we were married again.
Then the moment vanished.
Our divorce was relatively straightforward because we had no children and both of us wanted to avoid litigation.
That did not make it painless.
Financial disclosure is an intimate form of autopsy.
Every account.
Every debt.
Retirement funds.
Credit cards.
Vehicle values.
House equity.
The life we had built converted into rows.
The house was the hardest.
Neither of us wanted to keep it.
Claire said she could not imagine living there alone.
I could.
That was the problem.
I would have spent every evening seeing where she had left her suitcase.
So we listed it.
The first buyers who toured were a couple in their early thirties.
They stood in the kitchen talking excitedly about where a breakfast table could go.
I watched through the doorbell camera from Ben's house.
Then turned it off.
They made an offer.
We accepted.
Packing was worse than filing.
Who gets the blue Dutch oven?
Who bought the patio furniture?
Did we divide the Christmas ornaments?
I let Claire keep most.
She gave me the record player.
I had bought it.
She used it more.
Neither of us wanted to argue.
Milo became the only thing we truly struggled over.
He had been adopted together.
Claire cried when we discussed it.
"He should stay with you."
I stared.
"What?"
"You work from home two days a week."
"Ben's apartment allows dogs."
"Wherever you move, you'll choose around him."
"I travel more."
She knelt beside Milo.
He licked her hand.
"I don't want him alone."
I knew what the concession cost her.
"I'll let you see him."
Claire smiled sadly.
"Shared custody?"
"Don't make it weird."
"I'm trying not to cry."
"You can do both."
Milo came with me.
For several months, Claire asked to take him for walks.
I usually agreed.
Our mediated settlement divided the house proceeds, investment accounts, furnishings, and other marital property without a trial.
Neither of us tried to weaponize the affair financially.
The attorneys would not have allowed fantasy anyway.
Divorce law was not a morality scoreboard.
Claire had cheated.
That did not make the retirement account automatically mine.
We signed.
Waited through the required process.
Returned to court for a short final hearing.
Four months after I filed, the decree was entered.
Nine years ended in less than fifteen minutes.
I thought I would feel something when the judge said the marriage was dissolved.
Instead, I noticed the fluorescent lights buzzing.
Claire stood beside her lawyer.
I stood beside mine.
We answered questions.
Understood the agreement.
Entered voluntarily.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Then it was finished.
Outside the courthouse, Claire approached me.
"That's it."
"Yeah."
She looked exhausted.
"I am sorry."
"I know."
"I don't expect that to help."
"It does."
"A little."
She nodded.
"Take care of Milo."
"I will."
She touched my arm.
Then removed her hand.
"Take care of yourself too."