The lawyer’s office was filled with a heavy atmosphere. For a divorce attorney, it was routine, as ordinary as a morning cup of coffee. Niall sat in an expensive chair, his hands clasped together in front of him. It helped keep the rage and pain from breaking free.

Six months. Six damn months of divorce proceedings, and ten years of marriage had evaporated. He swallowed as the lawyer slid the papers toward Niall for his signature. This was the final point. No return. Niall Callahan had signed documents hundreds of times, checks thousands of times, and for the first time he had to sign a document ending his marriage.

The lawyer placed a pen engraved with his own name on the papers, as if drawing attention, as if trying to hurry him along. Niall took the pen and, in one sharp movement, signed the papers, pressing into the ink harder than necessary. Then he slowly slid them across the desk toward you.

“Here,” was all he managed to force out, his voice rough and gravelly, filled with accusation and anger. Whether he was blaming you or himself no longer mattered.