I did not let out a scream or collapse into a fit of tears.
I did not even feel the sudden urge to throw my smartphone against the hard wall of the living room.
All I felt was a strange, hollow sense of calm spreading through my chest, as if my body had already mourned this moment a long time ago and now there was nothing left to do but handle the logistics.
Mark and I had been legally married for seven long years of our lives.
This house belonged to me long before I ever met him in that busy accounting firm.
I had purchased it with years of grueling work as a senior tax accountant at a regional manufacturing firm.
He always liked to brag that we were a perfect team, but that team only functioned because I paid the mortgage, the credit card balances, the groceries, the homeowners insurance, and even the steep fines he racked up for driving his sports car like an irresponsible teenager.
I responded to his message with only one word: “Excellent.”
Then I immediately blocked his phone number so he could not reach me again.