On the very last day, Julian arrived early.
The hallway at family court was mostly empty. He sat by the window, a kraft-paper envelope resting on his lap.
The envelope contained the newly passed shareholder resolutions from Lumina Group, the original public apology, the wire transfer receipt for the compensation, and that wedding ring.
He checked the documents page by page, as if terrified of missing a single thing he was supposed to return to me.
The moment I stepped up to the clerk's window, he immediately stood up, his grip leaving a deep crease in the envelope.
The clerk verified our paperwork. "Do both parties confirm the petition for divorce?"
I slid my ID across the counter. "I confirm."
Julian stared at my side profile for a long time before finally setting his ID dow
