The movers were at the house before I was. Tape guns going, my whole life going into cardboard.
Declan stood by the stairs with his phone in his hand, watching it happen like a delivery.
Declan: I had them start early. It's faster this way.
Isla: You didn't ask me.
Declan: There's nothing to ask. It's a move, not a decision.
A mover carried my books past me in a box marked kitchen. I didn't correct him.
Nothing in that house had ever been mine in the way that counts.
Declan walked me into the study. Papers on the desk, and a new check laid on top.
Declan: The first number was too low. I had it looked at again.
Isla: By who.
Declan: The family lawyer. It's more than fair now.
I didn't look at the amount. I looked at his hand on the desk, and the clean cuff above it.
Even now my body noticed him. That was the humiliating part.
Isla: You think I came here to negotiate.
Declan: I think you came here to be difficult. I'm giving you a way to stop.
He came round the desk and stopped close enough that I could smell his soap.
The same soap from the day he asked me to sign. My chest went tight and warm at once.
Declan: Take the money, Isla. Pride doesn't pay rent on Gilt Row.
His sleeve almost touched my arm. I made myself stay still.
Isla: Say that again.
Declan: You heard me.
I stepped back first, because I wanted to step in.
Isla: I'm not a bill you can settle. I'm the wife you didn't want.
Declan: That's not what I said.
Isla: It's what you did. Every dinner alone. Every night you came home after I was asleep.
Isla: I was a convenience, Declan. Say it out loud.
His jaw moved once. That was all.
Declan: You knew the terms when you signed.
Isla: I knew the terms. I didn't know I'd be the only one keeping them.
Upstairs a mover dropped something and swore. Declan didn't turn round.
His eyes stayed on my face, like a man reading a number that wouldn't add up.
I went upstairs and took my tool case off the bench. My tweezers, my loupe, my files.
One case. That was the whole of what I'd brought into that house that mattered.
Declan: That's it? That's what you're taking.
Isla: That's all that's mine.
Declan: There's a check on the desk.
I came down with the case in my hand and stopped in front of him.
Isla: Keep it. I'll sign for nothing.
Declan: Don't be stupid.
Isla: Write it into the papers. I take no settlement. Not one cent.
Something crossed his face then. Not anger. Something slower and less sure.
Declan: Isla.
Isla: You said the contract was finished. So finish it.
I walked out past the boxes, and I didn't look back.
The door shut behind me. Through it, I heard him say my name once more, quieter, to nobody.
Then the tape gun started up again, and the house kept packing me away.