The law firm was all glass and grey carpet. Neutral. Sterile. The kind of place where feelings went to die.Nerissa sat on one side of the polished table. Zane sat across from her. Between them, a stack of papers. The divorce papers. Their marriage, reduced to signatures and initials.The lawyer, a woman with kind eyes and a practiced calm, reviewed the final clauses. Nerissa heard none of it. She watched Zane’s hands. They rested on the table, palms down, fingers spread. He had not looked at her once since they sat down.“Mr. Sullivan,” the lawyer said, “if you could sign here and here.”Zane did not move.The lawyer waited. Nerissa waited. The silence stretched.“Zane,” Nerissa said. Her voice was quiet. Not cold. Just tired.He looked up then. His eyes were red. He had not slept. She could see it in the lines around his mouth, the way his shoulders hunched forward.“I always thought we would find our way back,” he said. His voice cracked. “Even after everything. Even after you move
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