We got caught, again. No red-and-blue this time, just 3 a.m. flashlight in my eyes and me shivering, braless. He had set up a camera.
This was after the secret Christmas, after the ring, after the camping trip from hell where I found out about her. After I felt unsafe confronting you.
He threatened a restraining order; drove me across town in the dark to force the sapphire back into your palm.
I was tired. You were angry. At ***me***.
I moved away. You had a daughter. I blocked you over and over; saved it with your initials on my desktop.
I still remember your birthday.