I found a small, two-bedroom bungalow in West Nashville.

The paint was peeling on the porch, but the backyard was spacious and fenced.

I walked into Nathan’s study one evening to tell him.

He was reading a financial report under the warm light of a brass desk lamp.

“I found a house,” I said quietly.

He closed the folder and looked up at me.

“Where?” he asked.

“West Nashville,” I said. “The rent is reasonable, and the school district is excellent.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the dark garden.

“You don’t have to leave, Emily,” he said, his back to me.

“I do,” I said. “We can’t live a lie forever. It isn’t fair to you, and it isn’t healthy for Rosie.”

He turned around, his eyes dark with an emotion I couldn’t quite read.

“I never considered it a lie,” he said.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Nathan,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said, raising a hand to stop me. “You need your independence. I won’t stop you.”