After my divorce, I didn’t leave with much.
A cracked phone that barely held a charge. Two trash bags stuffed with clothes I didn’t even like anymore. And one thing I’d never planned to let go of: my grandmother’s old necklace.
That was it.
I didn’t leave with much.
My ex-husband didn’t just walk out. He ensured I had nothing to fall back on.
The miscarriage had already hollowed me out when, a week later, he left, too. He went off with a younger mistress.