Claire stayed beside me through everything.
Ironically, the sister I had privately worried might be getting too close to my husband became the person who helped me survive leaving him.
One night, about two months after I moved out, I apologized to her.
“For what?”
“I thought something was happening between you and Ryan.”
She stared at me.
“You thought I wanted Ryan?”
“I was jealous.”
“Vanessa.”
“I know.”
She burst out laughing.
I glared at her.
“Glad my humiliation is entertaining.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
She tried to stop.
She couldn’t.
“It’s just… Ryan?”
“Shut up.”
“The man owns three identical gray sweaters.”
“I married him.”
“Exactly. You’ve suffered enough.”
I laughed too.
It was the first time I had laughed in months.
The criminal case involving the recordings didn’t end as dramatically as movies make these things seem.
There were negotiations.
Charges.
Attorneys.
Deleted files that turned out not to be as deleted as Ryan believed.
I won’t pretend every consequence felt sufficient.
It didn’t.
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