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Nobody comes here unannounced.
The bell rings again. I exhale and go to open it.
Candace stands on the other side, holding a small box like she’s returning something she forgot to take with her when she left my life.
“Hello, Dalton.”
“Candace.”
She steps in without waiting, because she never needed permission for anything when we were married and apparently still doesn’t. “I brought this,” she says, setting the box on the table. “Old documents. I found them while cleaning.”
“Thank you.”
She looks around the apartment, taking in the same neat, controlled space it’s always been. “You haven’t changed much.”
“I rearranged the kitchen.”
“I stand corrected.”
She studies me for a moment. “You look worse.”
“I’ve had a week.”
“I gathered.”
She moves toward the kitchen like she belongs there, leaning against the counter. “So. Are we pretending nothing is going on, or are we being honest for once?”
I don’t answer immediately.
She tilts her head. “That bad?”
“Yes.”
She nods, accepting that without pushing for details.
“That girl,” she says after a moment.
“Maggie.”
“Maggie,” she repeats. “She looked like she wanted to disappear.”
“She did.”
Candace watches me carefully. “And you looked like you were deciding whether to burn the room down.”
“I didn’t.”
“Restraint. Impressive.”
I lean against the opposite counter. “What did you come for, Candace?”
She gestures vaguely. “This. That. Closure. Curiosity.” A small pause. “And maybe to confirm that I made the right decision when I left you.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“It always is.”
Silence settles for a moment.
