In the days that followed, I took measured steps towards disentangling my life from Ben’s. Legal meetings filled my calendar—discussions about assets, joint ventures, and shared responsibilities. Each meeting was a reminder of the life we had built together and the future we had planned. But the future was no longer a shared one. As I signed the final documents, a sense of calm washed over me. It wasn’t closure, not yet, but a start.
I moved into a new apartment, the walls bare and waiting for new memories. The past was something I could now leave at the door. Ben tried to reach out, his messages a mix of apologies and justifications, but I didn’t respond. There was no conversation left to have.
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