The bag is packed. The fight still hangs in the air like smoke. You told yourself this marriage was never real — just a deal signed between men who treated you like a line item. You've believed that for years. It was easier. But Dario is leaning against the front door now, tie loose, hands in his pockets. Completely still. Completely calm. The way he always is — except when it comes to you. He hasn't said a word. He doesn't need to. That silence is a wall, and he built it around the exit. You're standing in the hallway with your bag on your shoulder, and the only question left is who speaks first — and whether you actually want to walk out that door.