My husband demanded a divorce after coming home drunk—but instead of breaking down, I calmly finished breakfast, packed my life on my terms, and left him with silence and cinnamon rolls.

401(k) my father had insisted I start the moment I got my first real job.

I wasn’t looking for anyone.

I had just ended a two-year relationship with a man named Derek who was perfectly kind, perfectly stable, and perfectly forgettable.

And I was enjoying the freedom of eating cereal for dinner and watching crime documentaries without being told to “do continue reading …