(Brad)
Three months had passed since the divorce became official. Life hadn't magically fallen into place, but I no longer woke up every morning carrying the same weight. Therapy had become part of my routine instead of something I forced myself to attend. I was finally starting to understand that moving forward wasn't the same as forgetting.
The realtor called just after nine this morning. I looked at my phone before answering because I already knew what the call was about. The house had been on the market for weeks, and today I hoped I'd finally hear some good news. I took a breath before accepting the call.
"Morning, Mr. Calloway," she said. "I'm calling because we received another offer on the house."
I sat down at the kitchen table without realizing I was doing it. My heart beat a
