There were no words I needed from her in a supermarket aisle.

A month later, a written apology arrived through counsel.

She said she had allowed herself to believe a story that made hurting someone else seem harmless.

She admitted that by the time she understood the story was false, she had continued because leaving felt costly.

She did not ask me to forgive her.

I appreciated that restraint more than the apology itself.

For a while I was consumed by comparing our lives.