Chapter 5: The Envelope
The white envelope on the kitchen table was plain. No name on the front. No decoration. Just thick paper and a single piece of tape sealing the flap.
Inside, the letter was short.
Daniel,
I will not apologize for an accident. I will not continue living in a house where my word means less than a teenager’s performance.
The locks have been changed. My belongings are gone. The attached documents are copies of everything I have collected for the past eight months. My attorney will be in contact on Monday.
Do not call me. Do not come looking for me. If you need to reach me, you may do so through legal counsel only.
Claire
May you like
Beneath the letter sat a neatly clipped set of photocopies: the text messages, the timestamps of previous incidents, the recording transcripts, and the preliminary asset division proposal that showed I was asking for nothing more than what I had brought into the marriage and what I had earned during it.
I imagined Daniel finding it. I imagined Ava standing beside him. I did not imagine either of them feeling immediate regret. That would come later, if it came at all. For now, the envelope was simply the end of one story and the beginning of another.
