Everything changed after Eleanor died suddenly in 2020.
Grief reveals people differently. Some grow softer. Others become impatient with pain that interrupts their comfort. At her funeral, Julian seemed emotionally absent, checking his phone repeatedly while I stood barely able to remain upright through the service.
I told myself people mourn differently. I wanted to believe that explanation because the alternative felt too painful.
Not long afterward, he began pressuring me to sell my home to help cover his debts. When I resisted, he suggested I move into a small shed behind his property “temporarily.”
He did not shout. He did not sound cruel. That almost made it worse. His tone carried the coldness of practicality without tenderness, as if my life had become a problem to be rearranged.