Lynnette had agonised for years, and had already begun mourning when she told Jerome she was leaving him.
Despite everything – the fights, the silences, their differing outlooks on, well, everything – he was blindsided.
“What?” he said, eyes bulging. “What are you talking about? We’re good! Things are good! Don’t be daft.”
Lynn almost felt sorry for him, but told him her mind was made up.
“But Lynnie, you can’t leave. What about me? And the children! Let’s not be hasty, for their sake at least!” Lynn snorted. “They’re 40 and 43, Jerome.”
“Still,” he said, shaking his head, “still …”
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