I woke up in the company medical room after collapsing, only to hear the secretary whisper, “Are you sure she took it?” Then my husband laughed and said, “Relax. By tomorrow morning, everything will be ours.”

I cut myself out of the photograph with kitchen scissors and dropped Grant’s half into the trash.

Then I placed my half in a blank frame on my desk.

Not as a memory of marriage.

As evidence.

I had been there before him.

I remained after him.

And everything he thought would be his by morning was still mine.

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