work.
The exhausted businessman.
The misunderstood husband.
The romantic victim.
None of them remained.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want you to leave the house tonight.”
His expression hardened.
“Our house.”
“The house my parents helped us buy and whose mortgage I have paid for the last six years.”
“You can’t throw me out!”
“I already packed your things.”
He stared at me.
“You went through my belongings?”
“You went through our marriage.”
His eyes dropped to the evidence spread across the table.
“Is this about humiliating me?”
“
