It did not make Lauren’s years there meaningless.
The joint money mattered.
Her contributions mattered.
My premarital equity mattered.
The law would sort categories I had never needed to think about while married.
Stephen gave me another instruction.
“Do not empty the joint account.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not move money just because you think it’s yours.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“Good. Keep ordinary expenses ordinary. Document everything. Let the process work.”
That became my rule.
Lauren texted often.
At first:
Are you seriously still doing this?
Then:
How long am I supposed to stay at Melissa’s?
Then:
This has gone far enough.
I rarely responded except when necessary.
There was nothing productive left in repeating Thursday night.
Three days later, Stephen filed the divorce petition.
Two days after that, Lauren was served.
I was at work when my phone began vibrating.
First call.
Second.
Third.
Then the message.
Divorce? Are you serious?
Another followed.
Call me right now.
Then:
Six years and this is how you handle it?
I finished the report I was working on.
Closed my laptop.
Walked into an empty conference room.
Then called.
Lauren answered before the first full ring.
“You’re divorcing me?”