During the divorce, the husband declared, «Return everything I ever gave you and the kids!» A week laterthere were boxes onhis doorstep. When he opened them he was astounded…

A $75 set of novelty pens Leon had tossed into Rose’s Christmas stocking. A $55 model ship Steve had painstakingly assembled with his father’s help. The list grew, sprawling across pages, an absurd inventory of a life dismantled.

Valerie included every last item, no matter how small, her handwriting steady and deliberate. She wanted Leon to see the ridiculousness of his demand, to confront the pettiness of his actions in black and white. Let him and Annabelle sift through this pathetic haul, she thought.

Let them choke on their victory when they realised how hollow it was. The list was more than a record. It was a declaration.

She imagined delivering the boxes, the list tucked neatly inside, and Leon’s face as he read it. Would he feel shame? Doubt? Or would Annabelle’s laughter drown out any flicker of regret? It didn’t matter. Valerie was done seeking validation from him.

She closed the notebook and stood, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. The boxes. The list.

The memories. They were Leon’s to claim. Valerie stood in the dim glow of her nearly empty living room, the weight of finality pressing against her chest.

She resolved to pack one last box, a small, unassuming vessel for the relics of a life she wasn’t ready to surrender. These weren’t mere objects. They were fragments of her heart, each one heavy with memories she’d fought to keep.

She knew she had no choice but to let them go, yet the act felt like betrayal. Her ex-husband’s reaction loomed in her mind, unpredictable and sharp, like a storm gathering on the horizon. Would he unravel at the sight of them? Would he even care? One thing was certain.

This box, carefully curated with pieces of their shared past, would be her final, deliberate strike. A quiet, devastating blow meant to linger long after she was gone. On the appointed day, a delivery van rumbled to a stop outside Leon’s sleek new apartment, its tyres crunching against the kerb.

The driver and his loader, sweating in the late morning heat, grunted as they hefted several cardboard boxes onto the sidewalk, their edges taped tightly shut. Leon stood on the porch, arms crossed, a crooked grin spreading across his face. He thought he’d won, forced Valerie to bend, to acknowledge his superiority in this final, petty power play.

He had no inkling of what awaited him inside those boxes, no sense of the quiet defiance packed alongside the trinkets he’d demanded. Sign here, sir, the driver said, thrusting a clipboard at Leon. He scrawled his name with a flourish, barely glancing at the receipt, and waved the men off.

As the van pulled away, Leon surveyed the stack of boxes, his grin widening. This was his victory, tangible and neatly packaged. With Annabelle hovering nearby, her eyes bright with anticipation, Leon began hauling the boxes inside, one by one, into the pristine living room with its glass coffee table and cream-coloured sofa.

The task was tedious, but Annabelle’s excitement was infectious. She clapped her hands like a child on Christmas morning, her laughter echoing through the apartment. When he set down the last box, Leon wiped his brow and turned to her, his voice teasing.

Happy now, Princess? Ecstatic, Annabelle purred, wrapping her arms around him. They kissed, her lips lingering on his, and Leon chuckled. All right, let’s clean up this mess and see what we’ve got.

Annabelle wasted no time. She pounced on the boxes, her fingers tearing at the tape with eager precision. She zeroed in on one marked with Valerie’s initials, ignoring the others in her frenzy.

The box opened to reveal a treasure trove of Valerie’s possessions, each item nestled in tissue paper like relics of a life discarded. Annabelle gasped, pulling out the emerald necklace, its stones catching the light in a cascade of green fire. Oh, Leon, look at this, she squealed, draping it around her neck.

Next came the diamond earrings, which she clipped on with a delighted giggle, admiring her reflection in a nearby mirror. The silver bracelet followed, its antique links gleaming as she slipped it onto her wrist. She rifled through the rest, designer handbags, the crystal vase, cooing over each piece, modelling them like a child playing dress-up.

These are mine now, she declared, twirling in the living room, her voice dripping with triumph. Leon meanwhile turned to this one heavier, filled with the children’s gifts. He sifted through it with a detached air, his fingers brushing against Steve’s telescope.

It’s metal cool to the touch. He set it aside, mentally calculating its resale value. Rose’s music box came next, its carved lid intricate but meaningless to him now.

He stacked it with the charm bracelet and a set of astronomy books, muttering to himself about posting them online. These should fetch a decent price, he said, more to himself than to Annabelle, who was too engrossed in her new baubles to care. Then Annabelle opened a smaller box, its contents less glamorous.

Inside were photographs, postcards and a bundle of children’s drawings, their edges curling with age. She frowned, lifting a crayon sketch of a tank Steve had drawn years ago, then a postcard from a family trip to the coast. Her lip curled in disdain.

Leon, this box is just worthless garbage, she said, tossing a handful of drawings onto the coffee table. Throw it out with the trash. Leon glanced over, barely registering the contents.

Yeah, sure, he said, already gathering the empty cardboard boxes to flatten for recycling. He scooped up the smaller box, its contents untouched, and carried it to the garage along with a few other unopened ones, shoving them onto a shelf beside paint cans and forgotten gym equipment. To him it was just clutter, insignificant compared to the glittering spoils Annabelle was fawning over.

As Annabelle pranced around the living room, the emerald necklace glinting at her throat, Leon felt a flicker of satisfaction. He’d gotten what he wanted, Valerie’s capitulation, Annabelle’s delight, a tidy haul to sell or flaunt. But as he looked at the scattered drawings on the table, Rose’s uneven flowers, Steve’s lopsided planes, something stirred in his chest, faint and fleeting…