For a moment she looked like the woman I had married.
That made everything harder.
She sat at the island.
“What happens now?”
“I meet Rachel Monday.”
“Your lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“You already paid her?”
“I retained her last night.”
“What grounds are you filing under?”
The fact that she knew to ask told me she had thought about divorce more than she admitted.
“No-fault.”
She stared.
“You’re not putting adultery in the filing?”
“Rachel said it’s unnecessary for what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“To end the marriage fairly.”
Vanessa looked almost offended.
“That’s it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked down.
“Revenge.”
I shook my head.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“What about the house?”
“We figure it out.”
“The savings?”
“We disclose everything.”
Her eyes shifted.
“Including your account.”
“It’s my account.”
“The twelve thousand came from ours.”
Her face tightened.
“I told you I wasn’t hiding it.”
“You did not tell me the account existed.”
Silence.
“Rachel can handle it.”
“Stop saying her name like she’s replacing you in the conversation.”
“She’s my attorney.”
“I’m your wife.”
“For now.”
Vanessa flinched.
I regretted how cold it sounded.
Not the truth.
The tone.
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“You are.”
“I know.”
That was honest.
“Hurt and cruelty aren’t the same thing.”
She stared at me.
Then said:
“Adrian texted me.”
I waited.
“He says Claire threw him out.”
“That’s between them.”
“He says everything is falling apart.”
I almost laughed again.
“Everything was already falling apart.”
“He thinks you and Claire coordinated this.”
“We compared facts.”
“He says that’s vindictive.”
“Of course he does.”
Vanessa rubbed both temples.
“He wants me to meet him.”
“Then meet him.”
Her hands stopped.
“You don’t care?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You just told me to meet him.”
“You’re an adult.”
She looked at me as if I had become a stranger.
Maybe I had.
For years, Vanessa could predict my responses.
Argue.
Calm down.
Apologize for tone.
Try to repair.
She understood the cycle well enough to manipulate it without necessarily thinking of it as manipulation.
Now I had stepped outside it.
She no longer knew where to push.
“Would it matter if I didn’t see him again?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
Her face collapsed slightly.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then what could matter?”
I thought about the question.
“Time travel.”
She almost smiled through tears.
“That’s cruel.”
“It’s the only honest answer I have.”
The weekend passed quietly.
Vanessa stayed home.
I went to the gym.
Bought groceries.
Called my brother, Mason, in Pennsylvania.
I told him the short version.
He listened.