I met Olivia by accident at a pharmacy two weeks after the separation.

She stood beside the greeting cards holding a box of bandages, her face bare of the confident smile she’d worn on my porch.

I nearly turned away, but she recognized me.

“I didn’t know about the trust,” she said immediately.

“Did you know my children would be there?”

She lowered her eyes.

“Grant said they were spending the night with your neighbor.”

I didn’t need to forgive her to recognize that Grant had offered different stories to different people.