“You’re not staying,” I told him. “Not after this.”
He left. Quietly.
A week later, he begged for another chance. But I’d seen enough. “Love isn’t enough without respect,” I told him.
He reached for my hand. I didn’t take it.
“I’ll pay,” I said. “And I’ll keep the home. You take the memory of who you used to be.”
I walked out into the fresh air.
It smelled like freedom. Like home.