I had a huge fight with him over it.

I remember, when I brought it up—

He was rubbing his temples while typing away on his keyboard.

"A hair tie?"

"Must've left my coat in the lab. Someone probably put it in there by mistake."

"Give it here, I'll return it on Monday."

His long slender hand reached out—still not looking up at me.

His skin was pale, so the mole on his wrist stood out starkly and distractingly.

I handed him the hair tie. He slipped it directly onto his wrist, the dangling bear charm covering the mole.

It made me think of our wedding rings. He hadn't worn his in a long time.

He still didn't look at me, focused on replying to some message, until my voice cracked with the threat of tears.

"Whose is this?"

I snatched the hair tie back, demanding an answe.

Those striking, beautiful eyes finally landed on me—then narrowed slightly.

"It's one of my students'."

"Then why was it in your pocket?"

"I told you—it was a mistake."

"How do you mistakenly put your hair tie in your professor's coat? Why doesn't that happen to anyone else?"

"Is this really necessary? What are you trying to say, Claire?"

And so it escalated into a fight where no one won.

Julian was a man is in chemistry, works in a research lab at an Ivy League university.

Arguing with him was always exhausting. He has this intellectual arrogance, convinced he's always logically sound, and he's adept at pinpointing and attacking any flaw in your reasoning.

"If that's what you want to believe, fine."

In the end, he gave up communicating with me.

Just before shutting the door, he turned it all back on me.

"Claire, do you actually want a divorce?"