Gavin stammered that I had it all wrong, but the cashier had stopped moving, and I could hear her listening. Two months earlier, I had found statements for a secondary account while doing our taxes, since I was the one who always handled the family money. The account paid rent on apartment 4B for his coworker, Brenda Lowell. Every month, he moved money from our joint savings to cover it, certain I would never look, because he had never once looked at a bank statement himself.

I had stayed quiet and gone straight to an attorney, Ms. Okafor, who told me to document everything and wait. She also gave me instructions for the day he finally gave me a reason. When I saw his message at the rest stop, I knew that day had come. I called the bank, reported my cards as taken with my handbag, and asked them to freeze the joint accounts and Gavin’s cards, which I was legally allowed to do as the primary account holder.

Gavin begged, then raged, then begged again. He had only the cards I had frozen, a nearly empty tank, and a phone at four percent, far from home. I told him that the kindest thing he could do was be honest with the bank manager, and then I hung up. At that moment, my sister’s car pulled into the rest area. She had left the moment I called her after the bank, and she wrapped her coat around me without asking a single question.

Within a week, the account statements, the rent receipts, and the messages were in Ms. Okafor’s hands. I filed for divorce, kept the house, and received my fair share of the savings he had drained. Gavin spent months asking for another chance, but I had waited on him for eighteen years, and I was finished waiting. These days, I am on time for everything that matters to me, and I never wait for anyone.