I had wondered, on the long drive to Ohio, what I would feel when I finally saw the truth land on Garrett’s face.

I had expected, I think, to feel vindicated — to savor the sight of the man who had thrown me away realizing, too late, what he had done.

But watching it happen, I felt something more complicated and less sweet.

Because I was watching a man discover, in real time, that the foundation of his entire adult life was a lie.

Everything Garrett had built in those ten years — his engagement to Felicia, his comfortable certainty about who had wronged whom, his whole understanding of himself as a man who had been betrayed rather than a man who had betrayed — all of it rested on the story that I was guilty and my children were not his.