Lauren smoothed it out carefully and set it aside. Reached for another piece.
She'd kicked him out on Christmas. Had built art from her anger and pain. Had refused to shrink or apologize or pretend any of it was okay.
Wearing his ring didn't make her weak.
Lauren picked up the stencil and positioned it carefully on the plaque.
Lauren pressed the stencil flat and reached for her paint. Loaded the brush with white.
Today, she was going to make something beautiful and defiant for a woman who wanted her choice celebrated.
Lauren painted the first letter, her hand steady. The white stood out sharp against the coral and pattern, bold and unapologetic.
She could wear her wedding ring without forgiving her husband.
She could be confused and heartbroken and still moving forward.
All of it could be true at the same time.
Lauren finished the "D" and started on the "I", her rhythm finding itself.
She'd keep building this new life, one craft project at a time.
And maybe eventually she'd figure out whether Tom had a place in it.
But not today. Today she would make this piece for her client.
DIVORCED AF
Lauren was lyingon the couch in her pajamas at two in the afternoon when the doorbell rang.
She considered not answering. She'd been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, her DIVORCED AF piece drying upstairs before she could work on the next layer.
The doorbell rang again.
Lauren dragged herself upright and shuffled to the door.
Mia stood on the porch, wrapped in a chic coat, sunglasses perched on her head, holding two coffees and a paper bag that smelled like butter and sugar.
“I come bearing caffeine and moral support,” her sister-in-law said brightly, pushing past Lauren into the entryway. “And also muffins. Because emotional clarity requires carbs.”
Lauren blinked. “Did Tom send you?”
Mia snorted. “Hell, no. I sent myself. We are both members of the Married-Into-The-Barretts club and I’m calling a chapter meeting.”
Lauren couldn’t help it; she laughed.
They sat at the kitchen table. The coffee was perfect—strong, sweet, and hot. Lauren wrapped both hands around the cup and let the warmth soak into her fingers.
“So,” Mia said. “Tell me.”
Lauren hesitated. “He’s staying at my parents’ place.”
Mia’s mouth twitched. “Good. Let him stew.”
Lauren sighed. “Unfortunately, I think I might be stewing more than him.”
Mia laughed. “Oh no. Trust me, he’smiserable. I’ve seen him. He’s melting down.”
