"So what changed?"
I looked at the guitar case by his feet.
"I planned a dinner for you."
"I finally understood that believing in you had become an excuse to stop believing in myself."
He rubbed his forehead. "Ari, come on."
That almost got me.
"Ari, come on," had talked me out of anger, rest, questions, plans, and leaving.
I held out the folder.
"Ari, come on."
"This has the notice timeline, the bills I've paid, and the accounts I'm removing my card from. Nothing of yours was thrown away. Nothing was damaged. You have 30 days to make your own plan."
Scott stared at it. "What am I supposed to do?"
For nine years, that question had been mine to answer.
"I don't know," I said.
His eyes widened. "You don't know?"
"I don't know."
"No. And I need you to hear how peaceful that feels."
"Ari, we can fix this."
I shook my head. "No, Scott. I can't fix a man who loves being cared for but hates being responsible."
He took the folder. His fingers brushed the note.
"You were right. I'm not your wife.
So I'm done being your safety net."
"Ari, we can fix this."
"I didn't mean it like that," he said.
"I think you did. You just didn't think it would cost you anything."
His voice dropped. "Can we talk alone?"
"You had nine years alone with me. You used them to let me carry everything."
No one moved.
I picked up my overnight bag. Chelsea took a box. Mr. Clement handed me the signed notice.
"Can we talk alone?"
At the door, Scott whispered, "So you're leaving me?"
I turned back.
"No. I'm leaving the unpaid role you gave me. The one without the title, the respect, or the love."
That night, my phone buzzed until the screen went dark.
"Are you okay?" Chelsea asked.
"You're leaving me?"
"Not yet," I said. "But I'm finally mine again."
For the first time in nine years, I wasn't waiting for Scott to choose me.
