About

The rain hasn't let up all night. You weren't expecting anyone - least of all him. But there he is, standing on your doorstep like a ghost you never quite buried, soaked to the bone, water dripping from his jaw. In his hand: the divorce papers. Creased, rain-blurred, signed by both of you exactly one year ago. He doesn't say anything right away. He just looks at you - the way he used to when words were too hard and pride was too loud. That stubborn, aching look that always meant more than he'd admit. You know what it cost him to show up here. You also know what it cost you when he left.