I walked back to the kitchen table. I sat down and picked up my cold coffee. I took a sip. It tasted like ash, but it was the quietest, cleanest coffee I had ever had.

I am sitting here now, looking at the empty chair across from me. I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I don’t know how I am going to pay for the roof or the yard, but I know one thing. I am not waiting for anyone to come home anymore.

A lie don’t get better sitting in a drawer, but once you take it out and look at it, it loses all its power.

I looked at the window. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the floor. I finally felt like I could breathe. I reached over and tapped the screen of the tablet one last time, closing the page for good.

The house was mine again. It was empty, but it was mine. I didn’t need him to tell me who I was anymore.

“It is over,” I said to the empty room.

And for the first time in twenty-two years, I meant it.