After the divorce, I walked out with nothing but a cracked phone, two trash bags of clothes, and my grandmother’s old necklace.
My husband didn’t even try to hide it. Two weeks after I lost the baby, he said he “needed something lighter” in his life. Something “less heavy.” That “something” turned out to be a twenty-three-year-old with perfect hair and no history with him.
I remember standing in the doorway of what used to be our apartment, holding my bags, thinking, So this is what starting over feels like.
