When she finally spoke, her voice was thin. “I didn’t want trouble... I just needed help.”
“And you chose a married man,” I said. “Out of everyone in your life, you chose the one person with a family.”
“I—I didn’t mean—”
“Stop.” My voice sliced clean. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Don’t insult both of us by pretending otherwise.”
Her breath shifted—just enough to reveal the truth beneath it.
“Adrian wasn’t innocent,” she whispered. “He chose to be with me. Don’t you think that meant something?”
She continued, bolder now, “He still had that lingering college fantasy. It only took one moment. One slip.”
God... it hurt to hear it, because she was right. This wasn’t a moment that slipped out of control. It was a decision, and that made it entirely his fault.
“I don’t need you to tell me he wasn’t innocent.” I swallowed hard, forcing the sting down before it could reach my voice.“None of it would’ve happened if you had even a shred of integrity,” I replied.
“Integrity doesn’t matter,” she said flatly. “I needed his money, and he wanted me.”
For a second, everything inside me went very, very still. “Is that what you tell yourself at night?” I asked quietly. “That he wanted you? That you were special? That he came to you because he couldn’t resist old feelings?”
She exhaled sharply, defensive. “What else would it be? That’s the fact.”
“No,” I said. “The fact is he chose to end whatever you think this was. If it meant anything, he would’ve stayed. He didn’t. He came home. He regretted it the second it happened.”
“Elena—”
“No.” My voice cut through hers. “You think bringing up some old college crush changes anything? He married me. He built a life with me. A family. The one you tried to wedge yourself into.”
Silence on her end.
“And if you still think you have a place in this story,” I said softly, almost gently, “let me remind you: you were a moment. A mistake. A small, forgettable episode.”
A beat.
“I’m the one who decides how this ends. Not you.”
I drew in a calm breath.
“Now, about the money—you’ll return every dollar. To me. Not Adrian. You will never contact him again.”
A pause.
Then she muttered, bitter and low, “...Fine.”
And she hung up.
Just like that. No apology. No remorse.
Not that I expected any from a woman who lived her life in the shadows of other people’s marriages. But still, when the call ended, there was no sense of relief. My chest was pounding.
I was furious.
How could she feel no guilt whatsoever? How could she not even try to apologize after tearing apart someone else’s marriage?
I walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed water on my face, hoping it would cool the heat in my chest, hoping it would steady my breathing. I needed to look composed before stepping back out there, before facing people and pretending I was fine, before putting the mask back on.
When I stepped out of the restroom, I took one last steadying breath and fixed my expression to look neutral. Or so I hoped.
