Defensiveness.
Instead, she listened silently while I told her everything.
The dress.
The laughter.
The photo.
The canceled card.
The Facebook post.
When I finished, there was a long silence.
Then she said quietly:
“Send me a picture of the dress.”
I did.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed again.
“I’m coming home tomorrow.”
The next afternoon, she arrived carrying a thick manila envelope.
She looked exhausted.
But angry too.
Without saying much, she placed the envelope on my kitchen table.
Inside were printed credit card statements.
Dozens of them.
My name appeared on charges I had never approved.
Salon appointments.
Luxury skincare.
Spa weekends.
Jewelry stores.
