We didn’t need to.
The emptiness around them made the point.
By four o’clock, the house looked like a luxury rental after an eviction.
One thing remained above the fireplace.
Our wedding photograph.
Nathan in black tie.
Me in ivory silk.
Both of us smiling like two people who thought they knew each other.
Rachel looked at it.
“Want that?”
“No.”
I took a lipstick from my purse.
Bright red.
Walked to the portrait.
And wrote two words across the glass.
GOOD LUCK.
Then I left.
Nathan called me seventeen times that evening.
I answered none.
At 7:16 p.m., he arrived home.
I know exactly what happened next because our security system recorded it.
He entered through the front door carrying a pharmacy bag.
Vitamins.
Iron supplements.
Apparently he had planned to perform concern after abandoning me at the hospital.
“Nora?”
He called my name incorrectly.
Not once.
Twice.
He was so rattled he called me by his assistant’s name.
Then he walked into the living room.
Stopped.
Saw the empty walls.
Saw the missing furniture.
Saw our wedding portrait.
Saw the red letters.
And finally saw the envelope Rachel had left on the mantel.
Inside were three documents.
A petition for dissolution of marriage.
Notice of a forensic trust review.
