For the past two days, I worried my head with questions about Alec’s attack, trying to solve a problem that should be the least of my worries.

     My lawyer told me over the phone how Tom shredded the divorce papers into pieces and said to her face he wasn’t signing any documents. Well, that was expected. It didn’t come as a very big surprise to me. She said she had sent an application to the court and was waiting for a reply. Meanwhile, I was supposed to gather enough evidence of our abuse and possibly of his infidelity. Which was why I left the farmhouse early this morning and drove to a restaurant in Park Slope.

     Anne lived around here in a suburban house. I had called her earlier and told her I wanted to meet her and catch up. I didn’t tell her the truth. I figured it was going to drive her away, but then I reminded myself she was planning to tell me about Tom. Had she been remorseful and decided to come clean? Or was the call supposed to inform me about my flawed marriage? Whatever it was, I didn’t care anymore. All I wanted right now was for Tom to sign the divorce papers.

     The restaurant felt like a cemetery, I thought I was the only person there. When I glanced around, I noticed a couple sitting in a booth, eating and laughing. The man stared at the young woman whose cheeks turned red each second. He said something and she giggled. Then they clicked glasses and sipped, their eyes never leaving each other.

     I watched them as I stabbed the fork into the Bruschetta, cut a morsel with the knife, and ate it. Their conversation got livelier. The woman’s eyes dilated, and I wondered if she’d seen a ghost. I peered at them, almost craning a neck. I caught a glint in the sunlight pouring into the room. A ring. She covered her mouth with her hand while she stretched the other toward him. A grin plastered on his face, he put it on her finger. She brought her hand to her eyes, flipping it here and there, confirming it wasn’t a dream while her smile widened. She was happy and surprised.

     I had been like her some years ago. The happiness you felt was inevitable. It happened to many people in different ways. It all depended on you having an idea he’d propose or being utterly clueless. From the looks of things, the woman had no idea he would.

     When I took Tom’s ring and accepted to be his wife, I thought it was the happiest day of my life. For months, I tried not to forget it. But now I wanted my memory wiped off, specifically the memories I had with Tom—if that was even possible. To those young lovers, I wished them a good marriage. The man wasn’t leering too much. Maybe he would be a faithful husband.

     I saw them morphed into Tom and me. Four years ago in a restaurant like this. It was easy to retrieve the memory. I giggled as he placed the wedding ring on my finger. My stomach churned, but I didn’t feel an urge to puke. Tears had stung my eyes. A rivulet glided down my cheek. The love of my life had proposed to me. What reason did I have not to say yes? If it was possible to travel back into the past, the first thing I’d have done was refuse Tom’s invitation to have dinner after I found his phone. Decisions that changed your life for good were difficult to forget. That’s why it was advisable to be cautious when making them.

     The reverie wore off when the door slid open. I heard indistinct conversations in the entryway. Glancing back, I lifted a hand and called out, “Anne. Over here!”

    She looked in my direction and approached my booth, her dark ponytail swinging wildly behind her back. Tall and lithesome, Anne had the stature of a runway model. As usual, she was dressed with flair. The kimonolike dress she wore cost hundreds of dollars. And the matching stilettos, which kept clicking as she neared me were quite expensive as well. She wore an emerald necklace I had seen in a tabloid recently. I was sure she used her seductive looks to attract Tom. Her spotless face with sharp cheeks, pointed nose, and thin lips—she’d used those features to snatch my husband. I couldn’t stop thinking she was a traitor. Or maybe she was.

     She slid into the empty seat in front of me and dropped her latest handbag on the table. “Hello, Elodie. I’ve missed you.”

     If she leaned forward to hug me, I’d pour the wine on her and ruin her dress. I sat still, hoping she wouldn’t attempt it. Surprisingly she didn’t, and I sighed.

    I said, my voice stony, “Hello, Anne. I’ve missed you too.” In reality, I wanted to say, “Hello, traitor! I wish I didn’t have to meet you again.”

     But I didn’t. The last thing I should do was say something to upset her. The brutal truth was that I needed her. She was going to help me get the divorce I yearned for.

     She didn’t take off the sunglasses. She said, “I must say, I didn’t expect your call. How are you, Elodie?”

    “Fine,” I murmured.

     “I’m glad to hear. How’s Tom?”

      “The same.”

      A waitress walked to our table, and she requested a glass of water.

     “You sound different,” she said as the waitress began to walk away.

     “That’s because I’m different.”

     Through the lens of her sunglasses, I saw her doe eyes as they widened. She sighed. “Hey, Elodie. There’s something I should tell you. I wanted to call you, but—”

     “I already know. Tom told me.”

     She gasped, then swiftly took off the sunglasses.

     My face lit up. What happened to her face? It was swollen with purplish marks. No wonder she didn’t want to take off the glasses.

     “He told you?”

     To be frank, I didn’t understand why she was shocked. Wasn’t that what she wanted all along? “Yes.”

     Her eyes sank in. “It’s not what you think. Tom was a mistake. I was stupid thinking he was going to leave you for me.”

     She piqued my interest now. “How long?”

     Her fingers trembled. She fiddled with the glasses, then took off her hand. “Ever since you introduced us.”

     What! They’d been having an affair for four years? And Tom had lied to me about it. But what did I expect? That he’d tell me the truth?

     My voice barely audible, I managed, “Why, Anne? I thought we were friends.”

     She glanced away, then murmured, “I’m sorry.”

     “Sorry is not enough! You lied to me!” I snapped, hitting the napkin hard on the table. I wanted so badly to lunge at her and land two slaps on her face. I did what Dr. Philips taught me instead. The breathing exercise.

     I inhaled the crisp air. Struggling not to break into tears, I said, “You betrayed me.”

     “I know, Elodie, and I’m sorry. I always thought Tom didn’t deserve you. He promised me he was going to leave you for me two years ago. I was so stupid I believed him without taking into account our friendship.”

     She moved her hand across the table and touched my hand, her eyes filling with tears. “Please forgive me.”

     I gently pushed back my hand. “I can’t forgive you... At least not now. I haven’t healed. All I feel right now is broken. Tom broke me, and you worsened the situation.”

     Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

     I tasted her apologies and found them sincere. “I know you are. Some day I’ll forgive you but just not now.”

    She looked wistfully at me, then got into her handbag and pulled out a tissue, dabbing her face.

     The waitress appeared again with a glass of water on a tray. Anne took it and said, “Thank you.”

     I watched as she took sipped, all along my eyes fixated on her face.

     “At least you’re right about one thing.”

      Her brows arched. “What?”

      “Tom didn’t deserve me.” I pointed to my face. “What happened to your face?”

     “Tom,” she said, “he became violent when I told him I wanted out of the relationship and I was going to tell you the truth.” She swallowed hard before she added, “Tom threatened to kill me. He struck my face.”

     That didn’t come as a shock to me. It seemed I wasn’t the only person he used as a punching bag. Anne also had her share of Tom’s violent nature.

     “Tom isn’t stable. He needs help. If I hadn’t ended our relationship, he could’ve killed me,” she murmured.

     I wanted to sympathize with Anne. Just like me, she was also a victim of abuse. But I couldn’t get off the thoughts of her and Tom cuddling up and making fun of me. In a way, I was glad she saw him for who he was. A brute.

     “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

     She smiled sadly at me. “Thank you.”

     I decided it was time I broached our main conversation. I pushed forward, placing my hands on the table. “I need your help.”

     “My help? I don’t know why I can help you after what I’ve done.”

     “I’m divorcing Tom,” I blurted.

     Her cheek blanched. “Why? Is it because of what happened—”

     “Yes, and among others,” I said, cutting her off. I didn’t know how to tell her about my abuse. Earlier on, I would have easily confided in her about it, but after what happened, I didn’t trust her anymore. It was only fair to tell her the truth since she was going to help me.

     Tucking my hair behind my ear, I said, “Anne... Tom has been hitting me too. I ran away from the house a couple of days ago.” I fell silent, then slowly I added, “He tried to kill me.”

     Her face dropped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

     “It’s fine,” I said swiftly. “My lawyer sent our divorce papers to him, but he didn’t sign. He doesn’t want to give me the divorce.”

     I peered at her face. “If I don’t find evidence to prove the cause of our marriage breakdown, Tom would never grant me the divorce.”

     “I understand, and I’m going to help you. I have our messages and pictures of us...” Her voice trailed away.

     I didn’t want to imagine them together, but my brain wouldn’t stop creating the images. “That’s good. I’ll need them.”

     “Sure, Elodie. Anything. It’s the least I can do to make up for my betrayal.” This time when she touched my hand, I didn’t cringe.

     “Both of us are victims of Tom’s brutality. The only difference is that you’re his wife, so you experienced more than I did. Tom isn’t a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be with any woman.”

     At least we were on the same page. Unlike Tom, Anne was remorseful for betraying me.

     “Tom can’t find out you’re trying to help me and most importantly, I was in the city. I don’t want to imagine what he’d do if he discovers we met.”

     “All right, Elodie.”

     When I smiled at her, it wasn’t feigned. I just hoped that after everything, I’d forgive her.