Just like that.
Hours later, after reporters left and guests drifted home, I stood alone in the empty ballroom.
The chandeliers still sparkled.
The flowers still bloomed.
The music had stopped.
A janitor pushed chairs into neat rows.
My phone buzzed.
A text from my attorney.
“We’ll be fine.”
I looked around the room one last time.
At the stage.
At the empty tables.
At the place where my marriage ended.
Then I smiled.
Not because I had won.
Because I was finally free.
