I cried in my husband’s arms at the airport as he boarded what he claimed was a two-year work assignment in Zurich

“And you believed him?”

“No,” Grace said quietly. “Because that was almost exactly what my ex-husband used to say about me.”

For the first time, her voice cracked.

Not dramatically. Just enough for me to hear a person behind the warning.

“I know the difference between a complicated marriage and a story designed to make one person look unreasonable,” she said. “Lucas’s story was too clean.”

I stayed there on the floor for a long moment, my knees tucked beneath me, the phone warm against my ear.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

“I want you to meet me.”

“No.”

“Anne—”

“No. You’ve been watching my house, tracking my husband, texting me cryptic warnings. I’m not meeting you anywhere.”

“Fair.”

That took some of the force out of me.

“Fair?”

“Yes. That’s fair.”

I heard papers rustle on her end.