I had just given birth when my husband looked me in the eye and said, “Take the bus home. I’m taking my family to hotpot.” Two hours later, his voice was shaking on the phone: “Claire… what did you do? Everything is gone.”

the skyline of the city glittered under the morning sun—a city that felt newly mine, conquered and secure.

My phone buzzed gently in my pocket.

It was a brief, encrypted text from Martin.

Final settlement approved by the judge. They surrendered. Accepted all terms without contest. It’s over.

I read the words twice, letting the finality wash over me. Then, with a simple swipe of my thumb, I deleted the message entirely. I didn’t need to save it. The past was officially archived.

I pulled my son closer, pressing a long, warm kiss against his forehead, inhaling the sweet, powdery scent of his skin.

“Ready for a morning walk, little man?” I whispered to him.

He gurgled happily in response, reaching a tiny hand toward the skyline.

I smiled, turning back toward the warmth of my home. This time, we would not be taking the bus.

We would take the