Five Days After the Divorce My Mother in Law Asked Why I Was Still There Until I Told Her the House Was Mine

She looked me over from head to toe. I was barefoot, wearing leggings and a pullover, my hair pulled back without ceremony, a blue folder of documents spread on the breakfast table beside me. It was how I dressed in my own home on a rainy morning. Diane’s expression registered this the way it always had—not as casual comfort, but as some small personal affront.

“Why are you still here?” she asked, in the cool, clipped tone she reserved for questions she did not actually want answered.