My ex-mother-in-law applauded outside the courthouse after the judge finalized our divorce, then led the family off to celebrate my embarrassment. But when they returned to the family home, their laughter stopped—the sheriff was there, their belongings were on the lawn, and the house belonged to me legally.

I walked from room to room, opening the windows, letting fresh air move through spaces that had belonged to other people’s voices for far too long.

In the kitchen, I found one of Patricia’s champagne glasses beside the sink.

I threw it away, locked the door, and slept in the main bedroom for the first time in six years.