“I’m leaving.”
Claire looked up from her laptop.
Daniel stood in the middle of the living room wearing the pale shirt she had given him the previous Christmas. He watched her with the stiff, careful expression of a man who had rehearsed the moment many times before finally speaking.
“For another woman,” he added after a pause.
Claire closed the laptop slowly.
“All right.”
Daniel blinked.
That answer clearly had not been part of his plan.
He had expected tears.
Shouting.
The question, “Who is she?”
Perhaps even a broken mug or some dramatic scene that would prove how deeply he still mattered to her.
Instead, Claire glanced at the clock.
“Then please take only the things you paid for yourself.”
“What?”
“Your belongings.”
“I heard you. But what do you mean by ‘the things I paid for myself’?”
“Exactly what I said.”
Twenty-year-old Emily, Claire’s niece, appeared in the doorway. She had been staying with them while attending university.
“Should I leave?” she asked quietly.
“No,” Claire replied. “You live here.”
Daniel turned toward the girl, irritation flashing across his face.
“Stay out of this.”
Claire’s gaze immediately sharpened.
“Don’t speak to her like that.”
“For God’s sake, Claire, I came here to have a normal conversation!”
“You came to announce that you’re leaving me for another woman. That’s somewhat different from having a normal conversation.”
He released a loud breath.
“This is exactly why living with you is impossible. You turn everything into a report.”
“Occupational habit. I’ve been a financial director for fifteen years.”
“Money, spreadsheets, contracts… You treat even marriage like bookkeeping.”
Claire gave a small nod.
“Fine. Then let’s begin the inventory.”
Daniel fell silent.
Claire looked around the room.
She had bought the three-bedroom apartment a year after their wedding.
The down payment had come from selling the small property her grandmother had left her. After that came the mortgage, the renovation, the kitchen, and the appliances.
Claire had worked.
She had accepted extra projects.
She had tracked every expense and managed their budget.
During those years, Daniel had changed jobs several times, tried to find himself, and started a business that collapsed after eight months.
Claire had never thrown any of it in his face.
He was her husband.
She believed that was how a family worked.
When one person struggled, the other offered a shoulder.
The problem was that, over time, Daniel had begun to treat her shoulder as his personal property.
He loved inviting friends over and declaring:
“This is our home. I planned everything myself.”
He told people how carefully he had chosen the kitchen, although he had spent fifteen minutes in the showroom and had been on the phone the entire time.
He called the car “my car,” even though Claire had paid off most of the loan with her annual bonus.
He bragged about the television Claire had bought him for his birthday.
While all of it had still felt like their shared life, his behavior had amused her more than anything else.
But now Daniel stood in the middle of the apartment, preparing to carry pieces of that shared life into another woman’s home.
“I’m still entitled to half the apartment,” he said.
Claire smiled faintly.
“Possibly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means property is divided according to documents, not according to your memories.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“No. You started it.”
Daniel began pacing.
“I don’t want a war.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
“Then let’s not be petty. I’ll take the car. You barely drive anyway. The television too. And the coffee machine.”
Claire lifted her head.
There it was.
She had been waiting for that part.
“Why the coffee machine?”
“What do you need such a large one for?”
“That’s an interesting argument.”
“Claire, enough.”
“Should I give you the apartment too? It’s large. What would I need it for alone?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“You’re twisting everything on purpose.”
“No.”
Claire rose from her chair and walked to the cabinet.
From the back shelf, she took out a thick gray folder and placed it on the table.
“I’m simply suggesting that we look at exactly what you intend to carry into your new life.”
Daniel gave a short, mocking laugh.
“You actually keep receipts?”
“Not all of them.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Perhaps. But today it’s useful.”
She opened the folder.
The sale agreement for her grandmother’s property.
A bank statement.
Proof of the down payment.
Mortgage payments.
The contract with the furniture company.
Receipts for the appliances.
The final payment on the car loan.
Daniel turned the pages more slowly with every document.
“Were you preparing for a divorce?”
Claire looked at him.
“No. I was learning to keep important paperwork.”
“I contributed too!”
“Of course you did.”
“By the way, I paid for the entire balcony renovation.”
“Good.”
She pulled out another folder.
“There are forty-two thousand dollars of your money listed there. I remember.”
Daniel’s face reddened.