It was not about the items themselves. It was about control and the lengths he’d go to make me suffer.
By the time the ink dried on the divorce papers, I was exhausted and hollowed out.
I did not care about the furniture or the appliances anymore. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted peace.
So I focused on what mattered.
I poured everything I had into creating a home for Oliver and Mia. I nurtured a safe place where they could heal from the chaos their father had caused.
I painted their bedroom a cheerful yellow. We went to the park every weekend.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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