His lawyer took the pen and signed as a witness.

Jerome passed the documents to me.

I took the pen.

The metal was cool in my fingers.

I signed my name clearly, without hesitation, on the final page.

“We are done here,” Jerome said, taking the papers back and placing them in his briefcase.

I stood up, picked up my purse, and walked out of the conference room.

Rachel was waiting for me in the lobby.

She looked at my face and smiled warmly.

“It’s over?” she asked.

“It’s over,” I said.

We walked out of the building into the bright afternoon sun.

The air felt lighter, the city noise less oppressive than it had been this morning.

Over the next three weeks, I worked quickly to put the suburban house on the market.

I did not want to live in a place filled with the memories of a bad marriage.

The house sold within ten days to a young couple expecting their first child.

I watched them walk through the garden, planning where to put a wooden swing set.