We pulled into the driveway.
The porch light was still on, illuminating the house we had built together: new paint, trimmed hedges, a front door she had insisted on repainting navy blue because it felt more inviting. The funny thing was, that house had not felt inviting in a long time. She cut the engine but did not move.
“So that’s it? You’re just ending it like that?”
I opened my door. “No.
You ended it when you decided my love was a joke.”
She followed me inside, her voice rising now. “You’re being ridiculous. People say things they don’t mean when they’re stressed.”
I tossed my keys on the counter.
“You mean it, Nicole. You’ve been saying it for months in different ways to different people. I just finally listened.”
She froze.
“What do you mean, listened?”
