His features went flat and cold when he got angry. He wasn’t the type to yell and scream, or make a big scene. You knew that the less he was reacting, the angrier he was. So, it was no surprise that he simply turned and walked away that morning. He said nothing as he opened the front door, walked into the bright sunshine, and never set foot in that house again.

She tried to find him, tell him that the kids missed their Daddy, tell him that she was wrong to treat him that way, tell him anything he wanted to hear just to get him to come home. It was useless. He knew how to hide better than she knew how to look.

He left knowing that he was abandoning his family, his home, everything that he had worked so many years to achieve. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was free. Free from feeling inadequate. Free from always being told he was wrong. Free from feeling selfish when he did something for himself.

He was free to live the life he chose, not the one she chose for him.