“My husband texted from vegas: ‘just married my coworker. You’re pathetic BTW.’ I replied: ‘cool.’ Then I blocked his cards and changed the house locks. Next morning, police were at my door…”

She patted my knee. “You’re stronger than he ever deserved.”

The next day, I got another call. Unknown number. Female voice. Polite but strained.

“Hi, is this Clara? I’m Sarah. Rebecca’s mother.”

I nearly choked on my coffee.

“Yes,” I said carefully.

She sighed the sigh of a woman already tired of cleaning up her daughter’s bad decisions but not yet willing to admit that was what she was doing. “Look. Ethan made a mistake. Young men do stupid things. He can’t afford a wife right now. Could you maybe take him back? Just until he gets on his feet?”

There are sentences so absurd the brain rejects them before laughter catches up.

“You’re asking me,” I said slowly, “to take back the man who cheated on me, stole from me, married your daughter in Las Vegas, and slandered me online, so your daughter doesn’t have to deal with the consequences?”

“Well,” she said, already defensive, “when you put it that way you sound selfish. Marriage is about forgiveness.”

I leaned against my kitchen counter and stared out the window at my own backyard, where I had once imagined raising tomatoes and maybe one day a child, and felt a calm so profound it almost bordered on spiritual.