With a final glance around the room, I snapped the suitcase shut and stood. I could hear Harry’s voice in the living room, a low grumble as he talked to Tiffany. It was time to face them one last time.

As I returned to the living space, they both looked up. Tiffany’s face was a mixture of surprise and something else—perhaps regret? Harry simply scowled, a man too proud to acknowledge what was slipping through his fingers. I placed the suitcase by the door and turned to face them.

“I’m leaving,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside. “This isn’t the home I knew. It’s not a place of warmth and family anymore, at least not for me.”