He took her hands in his and stared at them for a moment. The ring on her left index finger glistened even in the dimly lit room. He glanced up to look into her soft brown eyes. He sighed, I dont think I ever loved you. Those eyes went from shock to ice within seconds.

Bette shoved him across the room. After all that we after all that I and her words trailed off as she ripped through the room like a hurricane throwing whatever loose object she could find at him. You *****! The gale within her raged throughout the house as she moved to the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase and started loading it with clothes. Occasionally launching precious valuables across the room in shear vengeance.

He stood in the doorway and he found no words of comfort or condolence. It wouldnt make anything better to confront her, he knew that much. Finally, he retreated.

Bette throw her suitcase to the bottom of the stairs, grabbed a pillow and some blankets and then exited throwing a statuette at the large 36 inch television screen she knew he loved. Leaving, she took with her only a murderous scare to her dignity, her pride and most of all her heart.

The night showed the early glint of morning in her rearview mirror as she headed west on I-40. She had not looked back nor would she ever. Bette only watched the fast moving land roll past as everything within her started turning to stone with each mile. Her dark, russet eyes were starting to glaze over from exhaustion. She pulled over at the next rest stop, pulled on a ball cap and shades then leaned back in her chair and slept.

Four days straight of driving there was no more road to follow, only the deep layers of the Pacific Ocean lay in front of her. Shed cleaned out the bank accounts and transferred everything to an old account in her maiden name that shed been smart enough to never close. He had a job, a home, a car, and his life and his dreams. They were all intact, but not hers. Hers had become his. Never again.

In a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt that stated $#@k You, Bette let the sand fill between her toes as she walked to the oceans edge and hollered at the top of her lungs. A wild, elated roar of freedom and pain rolled into one, then dove into the cool water of the Pacific.

Days later, Bette stood in a cozy, abandoned warehouse walking from corner to corner examining every inch of her new art gallery. Hers. The word rang in her head like an echo in a cavern. Hers.