This man had shared my home for forty years.
Yet somehow he knew less about me than my coworkers did.
Less than my employees.
Less than my friends.
Less than my boss.
“No,” I said softly.
“You didn’t.”
His shoulders sagged.
And for the first time, I realized something important.
His cruelty had never been about my worth.
It was about his inability to see it.
There is a difference.
A huge difference.
One belongs to me.
The other belongs to him.
The divorce proceeded several months later.
