Chapter 1
The divorce happened on a Wednesday.
The sky hung low and gray, holding back rain.
Outside the courthouse, my soon-to-be ex-husband, Marcus Landry, slid the papers across the table without even uncapping the pen.
"Hurry up and sign. I've got things to do."
There was a fresh mark on the side of his neck, pink and unmistakable.
A kiss. Still blooming.
I said nothing. I twisted the cap off myself and signed my name at the bottom of every page:
Lena Anderson
I'd signed it once before, when we got married.
Now I was signing it again.
Five years between those two signatures.
Five years of laundry, of meals cooked, of late nights waiting up for someone who never came home.
Nobody remembered any of it. I didn't want to remember it myself anymore.
The clerk didn't look at us. Soon, two certificates slid across the counter.
"That's it."
Just like that.
When I walked out of the courthouse, Yvonne Grant was already standing at the bottom of the steps with my old suitcase in her hand.
I'd bought that suitcase the year we got married. It was bright red.
Now the color looked garish, aggressive, and one of the wheels was broken.
It dragged along the pavement with a sound like a wounded animal.
"I packed everything for you. Hope I didn't miss anything."
Yvonne smiled at me with ease and confidence.
I looked at her: twenty-four. Young. Smooth skin. Acrylic nails, the kind that take an hour at the salon.
On her finger sat the Cartier ring Marcus had given her, same style as the one he'd once given me, just a size larger.
"Here. For old times' sake."
Marcus pulled three thousand dollars from his wallet and held it out.
Three thousand dollars.
For five years, I'd played housekeeper in that home—groceries, cooking, utilities, everything.
And at the end of it, I was worth three thousand dollars.
I didn't take it.
He pressed the bills into my hand and patted me on the shoulder.
"If you ever need anything, you can still come to me. After all…"
He paused. I could see him reaching for the words we were husband and wife, then thinking better of it.
He switched tracks. "After all, Yvonne is kind. She won't hold anything against you."
Yvonne grinned, showing her perfect white teeth.
"Lena, really, if you ever need help, don't be a stranger."
I took the suitcase and walked away.
I didn't look back.
By the time I reached the bus stop, the rain had finally started. Not heavy.
A fine drizzle, the kind that didn't look like much but soaked everyone through.
I stood under the shelter, watching the mist drift through the air, listening to the suitcase wheel squeal with every rotation.
My phone buzzed.
It was a message from Marcus.
Marcus: Send me your mom's address. I'll mail the rest of your stuff.
I didn't reply.
Another buzz.
Marcus: Try to make that three thousand last. Things aren't easy for me either.
I blocked his number.
