I was heading on a business trip when my flight was canceled. I came home early and opened the door to a stranger wearing my robe. She smiled and said, ‘You’re the realtor, right?’ I nodded and stepped inside.

She didn’t know.

So I kept playing the part.

I asked questions the way a realtor might. Lease terms. Utilities. Timeline. Plans for selling.

Each answer tightened something inside me.

Ethan had told her the apartment was his. That he was selling it so they could start fresh. That I was just a former roommate who had “some paperwork still tied up.”

My apartment.

Bought before I married him.

Paid for with my savings.