Inside, the cruelty continued.
"Jessica brought this on herself. Who told her to cling to Walter so shamelessly? If she hadn't meddled, Charlotte and Walter would have reconciled years ago."
"Some people have thick skin. She doesn't even look in the mirror to see if she's worthy. Ugly women always try the hardest. Our bro and Charlotte are the perfect match."
They took turns tearing me apart, mocking my dignity. And through it all, Walter—my husband—didn't offer a single word of defense.
It was as if he agreed.
Yet only last night, tangled in the sheets, he had whispered in my ear that he loved only me.
"Alright, knock it off. She's been with Walter for years, after all..."
A coquettish, silvery laugh rang out. Charlotte Matthews had been in there the whole time. She sounded like she was defending me, but her tone dripped with condescension.
To them, I was a joke.
I retreated to the hallway. Wiped my face. Steadied my breathing. Then I dialed Walter's number.
He answered on the first ring. "Baby, are you back from the hospital? What are the results?"
Warm. Concerned.
If I hadn't just heard the truth, I would have been played for a fool until the bitter end.