In that false reality, he was the wronged husband and I was the unstable wife who had fled.

And what I wanted, when I asked them to record his face, was not to gloat over his pain.

It was to capture the one moment when Julian would be unable to rewrite reality, the one instant when the truth would hit him so hard and so completely that even he could not spin it.

I wanted a record of the moment his lie died, because I had spent years living inside his lies and doubting the truth, and there was something I needed, deeply, about seeing the exact second when the truth became, for him, undeniable.

It was not about his suffering.