From Victim to Victor

roasted beans and the low hum of conversations. I was just trying to g

oice I hadn't he

Is that r

looking handbag. We had been in the same circle of friends once,

I said, my

, judgmental inventory. "Wow. It is you. I al

to reply. I just

d closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a huge

reign word, something I' d rea

with a kind of second-hand pride. "His company went public last year. H

ubbling in my chest. It wasn't sadne

nufactured sympathy. "He said you were angry with him. That you accused him of not u

enient story spun to make him the victim. The public

ere obsessed with someone from your past, that you were j

s made my stomach turn. For a moment, the old hurt flickered inside me, the memory of public shame and priva

e point? It was

thought she was getting through to me

uch he loves you. He told me, if you come back and admit you were wrong, and promise to forget

ooked at me, expecting gratitude, maybe even tears. She was offer

d my lips. It was a sound of

wned. "What

old pain dissolving into clarity. I gave her the o

rried,

smugness drain

I have to go. My husband is waiting for