She was silent.
“Sarah…”
“Goodbye, Ivy.”
I ended the call.
For years, I’d believed she was a friend.
Now I understood that her kindness had come with conditions I never knew existed.
And I wasn’t interested in hearing
would consult our attorneys.
We would address the support obligations Nathan had ignored.
And we would stop allowing him to tell different stories to different women.
Vanessa smiled faintly as we reached the parking lot.
“This is going to ruin his Thursday.”
I returned her smile.
“Good. He’s ruined enough Tuesdays.”
Ivy called me that evening.
“Sarah, I never wanted to hurt you.”
I took a breath.
“You spent five years reporting information about my son to his father.”
“Nathan only wanted to know how Joel was doing.”
“Then Nathan should have asked Joel himself.”
“I thought I was helping.”
“No, Ivy. You helped him avoid the responsibilities he owed his child.”
She was silent.
“Sarah…”
“Goodbye, Ivy.”
I ended the call.
For years, I’d believed she was a friend.
Now I understood that her kindness had come with conditions I never knew existed.
And I wasn’t interested in hearing
another excuse.
The following morning, Vanessa called.
“Everything is arranged.”
“Did Nathan agree to meet?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That we needed to discuss our separation.”
I smiled.
“Does he suspect anything?”
“Not a thing.”
She laughed.
“He even told me he wants to settle everything peacefully.”
I nearly spilled my coffee.
“Nathan? Peacefully?”
“Wait until he sees who else is coming.”
For five years, Nathan had controlled the story.
He decided what people believed.
He decided when relationships ended.
He decided which responsibilities he wanted to acknowledge.
But on Thursday, Vanessa and I were finally going to have a conversation he couldn’t control.
I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early.
Vanessa was already seated with a menu in front of her.
“Thinking of ordering?” I asked.
She grinned.
“I’m considering the most expensive steak.”
“Feeling wealthy?”
“No. I’m just imagining Nathan’s expression when the bill
arrives.”
I laughed.
“Ready?”
“Not even slightly.”
Ten minutes later, Nathan walked through the restaurant doors.
He approached our table while looking at his phone.
“Vanessa, sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about what you said—”
Then he saw me.
He stopped so abruptly that I thought he might trip.
“Sarah?”
I smiled politely.
