She Walked Up To Me On The Beach After Three Years Of No Contact… And I Knew Why She Was There.

The dividends go to an account only you can access. Use it. Disappear if you need to build something new.

And for God’s sake, don’t let anyone make you feel weak for choosing yourself. Love, Dad. I read it three times, then folded it carefully and put it back in the envelope.

My father had known. Somehow he’d known this day would come. My burner email buzzed with forwarded notifications.

The old iPhone was dead by now, drowned under the faucet back at the house, but I’d set up forwarding before I left it there. Seventeen missed calls from Samantha. Twelve texts.

Three voicemails. I didn’t listen to them. I already knew what they’d say.

Confusion. Anger. Accusations that I was overreacting, that I was being childish, that we needed to talk like adults.

But here’s the thing about talking: it requires two people who respect each other. And respect, once shattered, doesn’t glue itself back together just because someone says sorry. I opened a new text on the flip phone and sent it to Drew.

How long until she figures out the visa situation? His response came fast. Immigration attorney estimates three weeks.

She’s on a spousal visa. Divorce terminates it. She’ll have 90 days to leave the country or find another legal path.

I stared at that message for a long time. Samantha had come to the States on a work visa twelve years ago. Shifted to a spousal visa when we married.

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