Grace guided me toward a bench around the corner.
“I didn’t say collapse. I said sit.”
I sat.
For several minutes, I stared at the marble floor.
People passed.
Shoes.
Briefcases.
Coats.
Normal lives.
Somewhere downstairs, somebody bought coffee.
Somewhere outside, traffic moved through Chicago.
And somehow the world had not changed even though mine had been ripped open.
Melissa emerged from the courtroom.
She stopped several feet away.
Grace stood.
I did not.
Melissa looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I almost asked which part.
Sleeping with my husband?
Lying to me?
Watching Victor humiliate me for months?
Allowing me to believe she had stolen something from me when she had been hunting something else?
Instead, I asked, “Did you love him?”
Her face changed.
“No.”
I believed her.
That did not make it painless.
“Did he love you?”
Melissa gave a sad little laugh.
“Victor loves possession.”
