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.

ran long. You know how clients get.”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“It died. Forgot my charger.”

He kissed my forehead.

“Don’t wait up for me next time, okay? I hate thinking of you sitting here worrying.”

I nodded.

I believed him.

But when he went to shower, I saw his phone on the counter.

It was at 63% battery.

I stared at that number for a long time.

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