Just clothes.
And one old pillow.
That pillow… was the only thing that truly belonged to me.
I had brought it from my mother’s house when I left for college. I kept it when I got married because it helped me sleep. Because it smelled like home.
Because it reminded me I once had a place where I mattered.
As I walked toward the door, he suddenly grabbed the pillow and threw it at me.
“Take it,” he said with a sarcastic smirk.
“It’s probably falling apart anyway.”
I caught it instinctively.
Didn’t respond.
Didn’t cry.
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