Chapter 7 - The Eviction(Approx. 1,800 words)
At 10:00 AM the following morning, two marked Richmond Police cruisers pulled up to the curb outside our house on Maple Avenue.
I stood on the front porch alongside Elena and two uniform officers as Diego arrived in an old, rented sedan. He looked completely defeated, wearing rumpled clothes, his eyes bloodshot and heavy with exhaustion.
"You have forty-five minutes to retrieve your personal clothing and toiletries, sir," Officer Ramirez informed Diego formally. "No furniture, no electronics, no kitchenware, and no documents related to joint assets may be removed from the premises."
Diego nodded silently, avoiding my eyes as he walked up the porch steps.
As he crossed the threshold into the foyer, he stopped, looking around the house he had bragged about owning for four years. The lavender and purple birthday balloons I had blown up for Sofía two weeks ago were still hovering near the high ceiling, slightly deflated—a haunting reminder of the day everything had burned to the ground.
"Verónica..." Diego whispered, turning to face me in the hallway. "Can we please talk? Just five minutes. Without the lawyers, without the police."
"You have thirty-eight minutes left, Diego," I replied calmly, crossing my arms.
"I made a mistake, okay?!" Diego suddenly burst out, his voice cracking with desperate emotion. "I was an idiot! I was brought up to believe that my mother’s word was law! I didn't realize how far she was pushing things until... until I saw those papers in court!"
"You didn't realize?" I asked, offering a sad, bitter smile. "Diego, you saw your six-year-old daughter crying with a belt mark on her skin. You didn't need a law degree or a court order to know that was wrong. You just needed to be a father."
"I can change!" he pleaded, taking a step toward me before Officer Ramirez subtly shifted his position. "I started looking for a counselor yesterday! I told my mother she needs to return the money! I'll pay back every cent of Sofía’s college fund! Just... please don't take my family away from me."
I looked at Diego—really looked at him.
For seven years, I had loved this man. I had excused his emotional distance, tolerated his mother’s passive-aggressive insults, and worked forty hours a week while taking on ninety percent of the childcare, believing that beneath his flaws, he was a good man.
Now, looking at his pleading eyes, I realized the truth: he wasn't sorry because he had hurt Sofía or betrayed me. He was sorry because he had lost his comfort, his status, and his money.
"You didn't care when I was crying in this hallway, Diego," I said softly. "You didn't care when Sofía was holding her arm in pain. You only care now because the consequences have finally hit you."
Diego’s expression hardened, his desperation instantly turning into bitter resentment. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? You love seeing me ruined."
"No, Diego," I replied, looking him dead in the eye. "I don't feel anything for you at all anymore. And that is your real punishment."
Diego stood frozen for three long seconds, before turning sharply on his heel and marching into the master bedroom.
Thirty minutes later, he walked out of the house carrying two black duffel bags filled with his clothes. He set them in the trunk of his rental car, slammed the hood shut, and looked back at the house one last time.
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Teresa was waiting for him in her car down the street. As soon as Diego got into his vehicle, she pulled up alongside him, rolling down her window to yell something at the house.
I didn't listen to her words. I simply walked inside, shut the heavy oak front door, and locked it securely behind me.
