During the final court hearing, Brian sat across the table from me. He looked smaller. The neat, confident man who always had an answer for everything was gone. His hair was messy, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

He didn’t look at me once. The judge, a stern older woman, looked at the financial records Robert handed her and shook her head. She ordered Brian to pay for my legal fees, awarded me the split-level house, and gave me 60 percent of his pension. It was the financial hammer he had spent 9 years trying to avoid.

As for Sarah and Emma, I heard they moved back to Indiana to be near her family. She left him too, the very same night she found me in that unit. I don’t blame her. Sometimes I still think about that little girl, Emma, and how her crayons are probably packed away in some other box now. I hope she’s doing okay.

Yesterday, I finally went down to the basement and opened Brian’s locked filing cabinet. I had the locksmith drill the lock. Inside, I found his old fishing rods. They were covered in thick gray dust. He hadn’t touched them in 9 years. I carried them out to the driveway and put them by the curb for the trash collectors. Then I went back inside and sat down at the kitchen table. The house was quiet, but it didn’t feel lonely anymore. It just felt clean. My oldest son, Tyler, is coming over this weekend to help me repaint the living room a bright, clean white. For the first time in nine years, I feel like I can finally breathe.