I Left My Ex, Now He Regrets

Chapter 3

Adam didn't leave right away.

I gave Megan the bank transfer confirmation I had organized the night before.

It was money Ben had borrowed to keep his company afloat. Before my second marriage, I still had some savings I had hoped to use for a bakery of my own one day.

"Please ask about this too."

I pointed to the date. In the past, the moment Ben said his company was struggling, I had felt guilty asking him to repay me.

Megan took the document.

Then I pulled out a folded sheet of paper. I had written down the times and the things Adam had said in the hallway.

"And these from today."

I didn't look at Adam.

"I've already refused his involvement. Please include this record too."

Megan asked whether I wanted her to formally send the information to the person at opposing counsel's firm who handled complaints and request a review of Adam's involvement.

I nodded.

Adam's tone changed.

"Nora, you're filing a complaint against me?"

My fingers went still on the edge of the paper. Then I handed it to Megan.

"Yes."

Megan took it, stood, and asked them to leave for the moment.

Only after the door closed did I take my hand off the bag.

Ruth pulled out a tissue and wiped the sweat from my palm.

"Have you eaten anything this morning?"

I shook my head.

She took half an oat bar from her bag, broke it into small pieces, and handed them to me. I managed two bites before I couldn't swallow anymore.

'No one else has asked me that all morning.'

Megan waited until I had recovered a little, then asked whether I wanted to continue.

"Yes."

She sent formal notice to opposing counsel and then walked with me into the hearing room.

Ben sat across from us. He glanced behind me as though checking whether Adam had followed.

Adam took a seat in the back row. The young attorney was there representing Ben.

Ben told the judge, "I admit I got carried away that day. But ever since she left, I've been trying to figure out how to get our life back on track. I'm willing to go to counseling, and I'm willing to take care of her until her hand heals and she can work again. We're married. We should at least give each other a little room to work things out."

Just 10 days earlier, I had sat on the wet porch steps unable to lift my hand. The first thing he picked up had been his own phone.

Now he spoke about "taking care of me" so smoothly that it sounded as though refusing to go back would make me the one letting him down.

When it was my turn to speak, I pressed my hand over the timeline in front of me.

"He still hasn't returned my things. And this morning, the owner of the bakery where I'm trying to work received an email from him. He told her I wasn't fit to work. But he knows I'm looking for a job, and he knows I need that paycheck."

Ben immediately said he had only been concerned for my safety.

The judge told him to wait until I finished.

I looked down at my hand.

"I don't want to go back. I want my things back. I want to work. I don't want to have to wait for his permission every time I want to walk out the door."

Ben bent toward his attorney and whispered something.

Then the 27-second clip appeared on the screen.

It showed me crying and rushing toward him while he stood behind the camera telling me to calm down.

Ben's attorney asked, "You were the one who moved toward him first, correct?"

My sobs sounded painfully loud in the video. I lowered my eyes. After a moment, I forced myself to look at the screen again.

"I was trying to get back the phone and wallet he had taken from me. This clip doesn't show what he did before or after that."

"Do you have anything that supports that statement?"

"Yes."

That night, I had seen Ben's front porch on the monitor connected to Ruth's security camera. I asked her to save the full security-camera footage and give it to Megan for submission.

The file was long. I stayed at the computer until it was fully saved before I let myself go to sleep.

Megan directed the judge to the file already in evidence and to Ruth's statement explaining the camera angle and the source of the recording.

Ben jerked his head up.

"Wasn't that camera broken?"

His attorney looked at him. Behind me, I heard a chair scrape across the floor.

Adam sat up straight.

I didn't turn around.

Megan began playing the footage from before Ben hit record on his own phone.

I set my crumpled tissue aside. 'His lies, dressed up as concern, are finally about to be exposed.'