At the Divorce Hearing They Were Certain I’d Leave With Nothing — I Handed the Judge a Sealed Envelope
The nights Roman said he was working.
The weekends he was traveling for the firm.
The money that vanished from our accounts that he told me I was imagining, or misremembering, or too anxious to understand.
For two years I had been made to feel that noticing these things was a symptom of my own instability.
And now a judge was confirming, item by documented item, that I had been right the entire time.
There is a particular vindication in that which is deeper than winning.
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