She sold the house while he was riding

My husband left for a three-week club run. When he returned, our house belonged to someone else. No, I didn't forge anything. The deed had always been in my name. After fifteen years of marriage, I was tired of hearing Silas Monroe call the house his, the money his, the decisions his. Especially when I'd paid the mortgage during every bad year the Iron Oath barely survived. So while he was riding across three states, I sold it. Paid off the loan. Split what was left exactly in half. Then I moved to Tennessee. Silas arrived expecting a fight. Instead, he found a moving truck unloading furniture into my new place. For once, he had no house, no wife waiting, and no authority over what happened next. He rents the apartment across the courtyard. Not to watch me, he says. To learn how to be my neighbor before asking to be my husband again. There's already a man next door who's very good at that job.