“Yes.”
The anger that followed was immediate and overwhelming.
Not because Sarah was my ex-wife.
Not because I still loved her.
Because nobody should be manipulated that way.
Especially by someone claiming to love them.
Later that evening, my phone rang.
Sarah’s name appeared on the screen.
I stared at it for several seconds before answering.
“Hello?”
“Can we meet tomorrow?”
Her voice sounded strained.
“Why?”
“Because I need to talk to you in person.”
The following evening, we met at a small restaurant downtown.
I arrived early and ordered coffee.
When Sarah walked through the door, I nearly inhaled mine.
She looked pregnant.
There was a noticeable baby bump beneath her sweater.
I stood immediately.
“What the hell is going on?”
Several nearby diners turned to look.
Sarah calmly sat down.
“Sit down, Mark.”
“No.”
She looked directly at me.
“This has gotten completely out of control.”
Then she said the last thing I expected.
“I need your help teaching that little bastard a lesson.”
I stared at her.
Then she laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because she was hanging on by a thread.
“He doesn’t love me,” she said quietly.
“If he did, he would never try to manipulate me like this.”
