“If you were a better wife,” he spat, “maybe my family would actually want you around.”

The entire lobby went still.

Even Margaret looked shocked.

Strangely, in that exact moment, I felt nothing.

No heartbreak. No pain. Just clarity.

I realized I did not even like him anymore.

“If being a good wife means paying for my own humiliation,” I said quietly, “then I’m glad I failed.”

I pulled an envelope from my purse and handed it to him.

“The apartment keys,” I said. “The garage remote. And a copy of the restraining order my lawyer will file when I get home. You have forty-eight hours to remove your belongings from my house.”