s," for "our future," only to revert to his charming self once I'd complied, sometimes with dramatic, self-pitying tears that made me feel like the cruel one. Nine yea

ay, had left me weaker than usual, a hollowed-out feeling that went deeper than my body. I navigated the city traffi

ar, his arm around a young woman. My stomach clenched. Then he leaned in and kissed her, a long, public k

th, now held a glint of something cold, almost triumph

thick with expensive champagne. "Come mee

acing a hand on her

tarted, my voice

rby colleagues to hear. "And I thought, who better to mentor her th

sound. "Ten times, wasn't it

gues stared, some with open pity, others with a disgusting a

as referring to my latest "procedure," a fact Mark

es whatever I tell her. Don't you, sweetheart?" He

ul isolation of me from friends, from family-my parents were long gone-had taken their toll. I was worn down, a frayed version of the hopeful girl who had f