At that same time, I was sitting alone in the hotel restaurant by a wide window overlooking the city.
In front of me sat a cappuccino and a plate of eggs Benedict. Morning sunlight poured across the tablecloth.
My phone chimed with a bank notification.
Quarterly bonus deposited: $14,000.
I smiled, picked up my fork, and took a bite of toast.
I knew there would be a divorce. There would be paperwork, arguments, and no doubt a few ugly scenes in court. But that was for later.
Right then, in that quiet dining room, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Free.
And for the first time in years, every dollar I earned belonged entirely to me.
If I wanted, I could buy myself any sofa I pleased for my future home.
Or maybe I’d skip the sofa altogether and buy a king-size bed with the best mattress in the store.
Then I could sleep in the middle of it, arms and legs stretched out, with no one snoring beside me, no one smelling like stale beer, and no one ever again asking me to pay for his sister’s mortgage.
