The next morning, dawn broke pale and cold.
Sloane moved through her kitchen in silence, the clink of cutlery echoing faintly in the empty air. She prepared a simple breakfast, warm milk, buttered toast, and left a note for Jeremy, reminding him to be good and listen to the part-time caretaker.
By the time she locked the door behind her, the sky was tinted silver. She hailed a taxi, her reflection flickering in the window as the city blurred past, each passing streetlight a quiet countdown to freedom.
At the Civil Affairs Bureau, the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and paper. She collected the divorce form, filled it out carefully, and sat down in the waiting area. Her fingers tapped against her knee, counting the seconds.
Nine o’clock.
No sign of him.
Ten o’clock.
