Even if I kept fighting, I might spend more than I could ever recover.
So I stopped.
Not because it felt fair.
Because sometimes survival requires knowing when fairness has become too expensive.
I found a small duplex in late October.
The landlord, Grace, was a practical woman who had owned the property for years. Instead of looking only at my credit score, she listened when I explained what had happened.
I told her I had recently divorced.
I told her most of our financial history had been under Daniel’s name.
I told her I worked in the administrative office of the local school district and that, as long as nothing unexpected happened, my income was enough to cover the rent.
Grace rented the duplex to me.
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