A small bookshelf stood where Adrian’s enormous television used to be.
And the kitchen counter held fresh flowers.
It wasn’t a dramatic transformation.
Just a series of choices that made the condo feel like the home I’d always wanted.
After dinner, we sat beside the windows watching the city lights.
Lauren leaned toward me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you ever regret calling the police?”
I considered the question.
“No.”
She nodded.
“Even after all the trouble that followed?”
I looked toward the hallway.
“I regret that my marriage reached a point where I needed help documenting what was happening. I regret trusting Adrian with access to personal documents he later used without my approval.”
I took a breath.
“But I don’t regret asking for help when I discovered he’d locked me out.”
Lauren smiled gently.
“Good.”
A few minutes later, my phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number.
