Page 79 of Letting Go

Because now it’smyturn.

Walking out of the courthouse feels… surreal. Like stepping out of a dream I didn’t know I was still stuck in. The sun’s too bright. My shoes feel too tight. My skin doesn’t quite fit right.

But it’sdone.

A single gavel drop and ten years of emotional sludge just got filed undercase closed. I should feel lighter. I don’t yet. But I will.

This past month has felt like a goddamn year. A blur of legal documents, therapy sessions, bad dreams, and learning how to breathe without clenching my jaw. The stuff was already divided,technically. As in, I stuffed all his designer garbage into black plastic bags and had Eli, Hannah’s very patient, very buff husband, drop it at whatever crypt Mike’s been hiding in.

I wasn’t about to see him. And I definitely didn’t want him showing up atmyhouse while Keira was there. She doesn’t need to see that walking red flag ever again.

Lorna and I are halfway down the courthouse steps, the cement still radiating leftover heat from the morning sun, when I hear it.

“Leni.”

I don’t have to look. I know that voice. I hate that I know that voice.

Lorna turns instantly, sharp as a knife. “Nope. Not today.” She steps in front of me like a human shield in high heels.

But I touch her arm. “It’s okay.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but she steps aside with a slow exhale, like she’s warning the universe to behave.

I nod once. Then take a few steps forward with him. Not far. Not private. Just enough distance to make it clear I don’t owe him a goddamn thing.

Mike looks older. Not in a tragic, sympathetic way, more like the kind of tired that comes from finally being seen for who you really are. His tie is crooked. His confidence, even more so.

He opens his mouth. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything.”

I tilt my head, not saying a word. He takes that as permission and keeps going, big mistake.

“I hope, maybe… we can be friends someday.”

Friends.

I blink at him. Once. Slowly. “Let me be very clear. Are you sayingyouwant to be friends withme… or withKeira?”

He freezes. Not expecting that.

His expression shifts like I’ve said something outrageous. LikeI’mthe one who’s making things ugly.

“You do realize,” I say, voice low but lethal, “you fucked a nineteen-year-old girl you’d known since she was ten, right?”

He opens his mouth, probably to deny it, to twist it, but I don’t let him. “A girl who trusted you. Wholooked up to you.Who thought you were safe. You were family, Mike. You were supposed to protect her.”

“She came onto me,” he says, weakly. Like that makes any of it less vile.

I actually laugh, cold, bitter. “And you knew damn well she had a messed-up relationship with male authority. You knew everything about her. You knew about me. And you used it.”

He shifts again, voice tightening. “This isn’t about her. This is aboutus.”

“No,” I say, eyes narrowing. “See, that’s your favourite trick, pretending things only matter whenyou’reat the centre. But this? What you did? This isn’t just about cheating or ending a marriage. You didn’t just hurt me. You jeopardized my relationship withmy sister.You blew up our entire family so you could chase some pathetic fantasy where you’re still the hero.”

I take a step back, straighten my spine, and look him in the eyes.

“If there was ever a time we could’ve ended this and maybe,maybesalvaged something human betweenus, it would’ve been if you’d ended our marriage like a man. With dignity. With honesty. But you didn’t. You ended it like a coward. You made me question every memory, every good moment we ever had. You made our whole history feel like a lie. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.”

And that’s it. That’s the last word.

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