Three days later, Mike came back with my bangle.
He set the box down on the coffee table and looked my way, his eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying.
"Whitney, can we call off the divorce? Please."
I said nothing in response.
"I know I messed up terribly, and I've cut off all contact with Sara," he begged.
"What happened between the two of you doesn't concern me any longer," I said evenly.
"How can you say that? You're still my wife," he shot back.
I stared at him and almost let out a bitter laugh at those words.
"Mike, do you recall your mother constantly saying I could never measure up to Sara? Where were you back then? Staring glued to your phone the entire time."
He fell silent.
"Do you remember when Sara slipped on my slippers, and you let her keep them? Did you ever bother
