- Aria -
If I’d learned one thing over the past few weeks, it was that people loved saying divorce was easy when it wasn’t their marriage cracking apart.
We were sitting in a quiet corner café that smelled like burnt espresso and fake vanilla candles.
Rain tapped lazily against the window. The gloominess was just enough to turn the city gray and reflective.
Wynne had her laptop open, her fingers busily tapping the keyboard to input my case.
“So,” she said, not looking up, “tell me your terms.”
“I leave with nothing,” I said without hesitation. “No property and money. I won’t fight custody.”
Her fingers paused mid-tap.
I kept going before she could interrupt. “I just want one visitation day a week. No emotional bargaining later.”
That finally made her look up.
