After the divorce, I went back to live with my father for a while. He didn't ask me anything. Every morning he made breakfast, and every night, he reminded me not to stay up too late.
He wasn't good with comforting words. Instead, he would move the potted plants on the balcony around and say in passing, "Nice sun today. Go out for a walk."
I knew he was afraid I wouldn't hold up. But oddly enough, I didn't break.
The days when I truly would have fallen apart had already been eroded bit by bit inside that marriage. What remained was a strange lightness, like someone who had been underwater holding their breath for too long finally breaking the surface, where even breathing felt almost indulgent.
With the patents and client resources I had taken back, I registered a new company.
I calle
