Later, Clara messaged me directly. She had no idea he was married. He had lied to her, too.

I replied:
“It’s not your fault. I hope you find peace and a life free of lies.”

Because sometimes the other woman isn’t the enemy. She’s just another name on his list of betrayals.

Healing, Slowly
That night — the night with the panties — may have looked petty to some. But to me, it was the night I stopped accepting crumbs.

The night I stopped begging for honesty from a man who no longer saw me.

Now, I live alone. My space. My rules. No locked phones. No strange perfumes. No secrets.

Dante and I take it slow. He has a daughter who calls me her “Sunday pancake buddy.”

There’s stillness. Laughter. Air.

One evening, Mira joined me on the balcony.

“Do you regret not confronting him sooner?” she asked.

I sipped my wine and smiled.

“No. If I had, he would’ve lied. That night gave me what I needed. Not rage — clarity.”

Because sometimes, silence is the loudest scream.

And walking away?

That’s the most powerful sentence you’ll ever speak.