I stood across the street for a moment.
I remembered Ryan standing there with Norah.
I remembered him reaching for the door.
I remembered him realizing that the key no longer worked.
At the time, I thought that moment was the end of my story.
It wasn’t.
It was the beginning.
I turned away.
My phone rang.
“Addison?”
It was my assistant.
“Yes?”
“The board is waiting.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Are you still in Belle Meade?”
I smiled.
“For a minute.”
“Why?”
I looked at the house one last time.
“Just saying goodbye.”
“To the house?”
I thought about it.
“No.”
“To the woman who lived there.”
I hung up.
Then I walked to my car.
I didn’t look back.
Because the woman who had once sat alone in an office at 8:17 on a Wednesday night, watching her husband marry another woman on Instagram, was gone.
That woman had believed her life was ending.
