Just give me one gift… the next morning he woke up alone…

«Sophia, we need to talk,» Ethan said, keeping his eyes lowered. His tone was hushed, as though he lacked conviction in his own statement. «I’ve fallen for someone else. Please forgive me.»

She was positioned at the sink. The mug scraped against the sponge in her grip. For several moments, Sophia stayed quiet, then she deliberately rinsed the tableware, positioned the mug neatly in the drying rack, and dried her hands on a checkered dishcloth.

Her actions were deliberate, nearly contemplative, and only afterward, with no sign of agitation, did she face him. «Fine, if you’re in love, then leave.»

No sobbing, no theatrics, merely straightforward phrases, as if this weren’t the end of a shared existence, but a routine domestic exchange.

«I… I never meant to cause you pain,» he stammered, gazing remorsefully at her expression, as if noticing for the initial time the depth of weariness etched there.

«Then avoid causing pain—just depart gracefully.»

Her tone was steady, excessively so, devoid of wavering or effort, and he sensed an internal tightening, not from remorse, but from embarrassment, as if his essence had been hollowed out with a utensil, making it terrifying to peer within.

She moved toward the table, poured robust tea into a sizable pottery cup with a notched rim, and seated herself across from him, avoiding his gaze.

«We’ve shared so many years,» she stated, maintaining an even volume. «Our son is now an adult, we constructed the home, we accomplished everything as a team, you labored, I backed you, there were challenges, delights, none of it was meaningless.»

He remained mute, his posture slumped.

«You may keep the home; I require nothing,» she added at last, «save for one item.»

She sipped the tea, set the cup on the mat, and proceeded, meeting his eyes directly….