"In that case, it has to be a mutual agreement. If Joel doesn't consent, the court almost certainly won't grant a divorce."

That was just how the law worked.

Easy to get married. Nearly impossible to get out.

That evening, Joel was waiting outside my office. A massive bouquet of red roses sat in the passenger seat.

"Come on, don't be mad. The apartment thing was my fault. I've already figured out another way to handle it."

The second those words left his mouth, my scalp prickled.

I jerked my face up from the roses and stared at him, eyes wide.

"What did you do?"

Joel kept his eyes on the road. He glanced at me once through the rearview mirror.

"That's none of your concern!"

The memory hit me like a freight train. After Joel's car accident in my previous life,

I'd tried to sell the apartment, only to be told at the office that he'd already transferred it to Maya.

Terrified of history repeating itself, the first thing I did when I got home was tear through every drawer and cabinet.

"What are you looking for?"

Joel followed me in.

I looked up. "Where's the deed?"

Something flickered behind his eyes, but he went ahead and pulled it out.

"Right here. See?"

I snatched it from his hands and flipped it open, my fingers clumsy with urgency.

A bright red mortgage registration stamp stared back at me. It hadn't been there before.

"What is this?"

I jabbed my finger at the stamp.

Joel turned his face away and said nothing.

"Talk!"

"You have three seconds before I call the police."

I grabbed my phone and dialed 911.

Joel ripped it out of my hand and threw it onto the bed.

"I took out a mortgage on this apartment. The one we're living in right now."

I stared at him, unable to process what I'd just heard.

"This property is jointly owned. Or did you forget I put in five hundred thousand dollars?"

"How much did you borrow? Where's the money?"

Joel saw how worked up I was and moved to clamp his hand over my mouth.

"Keep your voice down. Maya will hear you."

I laughed. The kind of laugh that comes right before something breaks. "You gave it to her?"

Joel's expression locked up for a second. When he realized I'd already figured it out, he stopped pretending.

"Eight hundred thousand. Transferred every cent to Maya's account."

"We can pay it back over time. Getting her a place to live comes first."

I dug my nails into my own palm, forcing myself to stay steady.

"Give me back my five hundred thousand."