After ten years of marriage, I want everything to be split fairly… even now, it still matters. Ten years is not a small thing.

That evening, I waited at the dining table.

Not with dinner.

With the blue folder.

He sat across from me.

“What’s that?”

“Our division.”

I slid the first document toward him.

“Clause ten. The company agreement you signed eight years ago.”

He frowned.

“That’s administrative.”