Julia had stopped asking him to change. Then she stopped expecting. Then she stopped looking at him altogether.
By the time she found The Institute's discreet portal-tucked behind layers of invitation-only forums-she wasn't searching for revenge. She was searching for efficiency. Permanence. A way to clear the space he occupied and fill it with something refined. Something crafted. Something hers.
She didn't need to be convinced. The testimonials were not testimonials at all-just brief glimpses: a before name, a silhouette, and then silence. Results, not stories. That was what she wanted.
She requested Tier One access and it was granted within minutes. The interface unlocked in front of her. The terms appeared in clear, sterile language. Legal guardianship. Consent bypass. Full-body redesign. Behavioral reprogramming. Hormonal stabilization. Identity erasure. All irreversible. All discreet.
Her hand didn't tremble when she typed his name.
He sat across the room, watching television, unaware that a timeline had just begun. One year from that moment, she would no longer call him husband. She would never call him by his name again. He would not argue. He would not disappear. He would become.
Julia marked the date in her private calendar: Phase One begins Monday.
And then, without expression, she erased his name from the portal.
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