Daniel never argued over the paperwork.
He never fought about who kept the house.
He let me keep almost everything.
The day I signed the final papers, I drove home in complete silence.
I parked in my driveway and sat in the car for almost 40 minutes because walking into that empty house felt impossible.
When I finally opened the front door, the silence greeted me before I even stepped inside.
His coffee mug was gone.
His jackets were gone.
His shoes weren’t by the door anymore.
The closet suddenly looked twice as big.
I collapsed onto the living room floor and cried until my throat felt raw.
People say divorce is like grief.
They’re wrong.
With grief, people understand why you’re hurting.
With divorce, everyone wants a reason.
I never had one.
