There it was again.
Not accountability.
Minimization.
I looked toward the living room.
Sophie was sitting beside Rachel, coloring.
She looked peaceful.
I hadn’t realized how rarely I had seen that expression at home.
“I’m filing for separation.”
Daniel stopped breathing for a moment.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Over one argument?”
“No.”
I looked at the three pages.
“Over everything I spent years calling one argument at a time.”
His voice changed.
“You can’t take my daughter.”
“I’m going to protect her.”
“She’s mine too.”
“She isn’t property.”
He became angry again.
And suddenly the apology disappeared.
He accused me of manipulating Sophie.
He blamed Rachel.
He blamed his mother.
He blamed work pressure.
He blamed money.
Eventually, he even blamed the broken glass.
He blamed everyone except himself.
I ended the call.
The following weeks were exhausting.
There were meetings.
Documents.
Temporary arrangements.
