Her house was never sold, because it was never his to sell and she never signed. I drove her home the next morning. We changed the locks that afternoon, and I helped her take Roland off the emergency contacts and the one account he had talked his way onto during the first happy week.

He called me for a month. I let most of it ring. When we finally spoke he called her confused, and I told him she had been clear enough to pack a bag and leave, which is more clarity than he showed the whole three weeks.

They do not speak now. Priya sent one message, an apology of sorts, and Mom read it and said nothing.

Mom still drives. She still meets her friends for lunch on Thursdays. She has a spare key to my place and I have one to hers, and that is the whole of the arrangement.

They told her she should not be alone, and what they meant was that alone she was harder to move. She was never the vulnerable one in that house. She was the only person in it who knew exactly what she would not give away, and the night she walked out in the rain she was not running from anything. She was carrying herself home.