We’ll see, — I replied calmly. — Tomorrow you’ll pack your things and leave. From my apartment. After all, I’m so fat, I don’t fit there anymore. Oh, and the car, which is registered in my name, you’ll leave in the garage. And be sure: my brother will know everything. You know how much he “loves” you.

— You won’t do this…

— You’ll see.

I stood up, picked up my purse, and headed for the door. Behind me I heard his friend’s voice, quiet but clear:

— Serves you right, bastard.

I walked out of the house, and for the first time in a long while, I felt free.