By the time I landed in London, I was exhausted.Someone from the firm was waiting at Heathrow and drove me to a small apartment near the office. It had one bedroom, a narrow kitchen, and a desk by the window large enough to spread out a full set of drawings.After unpacking, I opened the old drawing case I had brought from home.For the first time in years, those tools no longer felt like reminders of what I had given up. They felt like mine again.My phone rang just as I finished showering.Claire.The moment I answered, she said, “You actually left.”Her voice was low, worn down by anger and exhaustion.“I told you to wait until I got back.”“I never agreed to.”“Adrian, Evan was in the emergency department. He needed stitches. I couldn’t just leave.”“I know.”“That’s not the point. We hadn’t finished talking, and you went straight to the airport.”“We had finished.”Then I said, “Claire, we’re over.”“I never agreed to that.”“You don’t have to.”Her breathing changed.“Seven year
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