“When is my son’s wedding?” I asked casually, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear as I folded laundry in my small apartment.

“I have to go, Jason,” I interrupted, channeling the same tone Emily had used on me a week prior. “I have a long drive ahead of me. And honestly? I don’t want to be late for my own life anymore.”

“Wait! Mom!”

I hung up.

I stared at the phone for a moment, waiting for the guilt to crush me. I waited for the urge to call back, to apologize, to transfer the funds and eat canned soup for another month.

It never came.

Instead, I picked up the faded photo of Jason from the coffee table—the last thing left in the apartment. I looked at it one last time, then dropped it into the trash can by the door.

I grabbed my purse and walked out into the hallway, locking the door behind me. As I stepped out into the sunlight and walked toward my packed car, I took a deep breath. The air tasted sweet.

It was going to be a lovely drive. Just for me. Very intimate.