him.
They mention his age.
They mention his fall.
They mention the length of our marriage as if time itself should earn him a pardon.
Maybe some believe it should.
Maybe some believe that after fifty-two years, mercy ought to outrank truth.
I only know this: he did not lose me because he grew old.
He lost me because he chose, step by deliberate step, to turn love into leverage, family into strategy, and a lifetime into paperwork.
Whether a man deserves forgiveness after that is a question people can answer for themselves.
I already answered it when I unlocked my front door and walked back into my own house alone.
