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After three years of separation, Richard Lane finally agreed to the divorce. The taxi had pulled up to the family court when a trending post popped up on my phone. The photo showed Vivian White and Richard's hands clasped. On her ring finger, the diamond I once couldn't bring myself to buy sparkled. It read: [Today is the day my boyfriend breaks up with his ex, and the day we get married.] My phone rang immediately. Richard's voice came through. He said, "Susan, I know you still love me. Until the papers are signed, you can always change your mind." Love? I stared at the two of them embracing at the court entrance, my fingertips turning white. That word had been ground to dust long ago, the day he locked me in a mental hospital, and the day he pointed at my swollen belly and called my child a bastard. All I had left for him was a bone-deep hatred.