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On the day I was discharged, the sky was overcast.

I didn't tell anyone. I had the carer help me pack a small bag and I took a taxi straight to a hotel.

Once I was settled, I called my solicitor and sent over a revised version of the divorce papers.

Lucas refused to sign. He started looking for me everywhere.

I blocked his number. He started using other people's phones.

His messages went from frantic to quietly desperate.

I've sold the flat. The money's in your account.

I've cut contact with my mother. She won't come near you again.

Please. Just one meeting. That's all I'm asking.

I read them. I felt nothing except a vague, tired amusement.

Where was all of this before?