They say when one door closes, another opens. In my case, my cheating husband slamming the door led me straight to my dream life.
After my miscarriage, Michael couldn’t even look at me. What I didn’t know was he’d been looking at my childhood friend Anna instead. When I found their texts – sent while I was in the hospital – I didn’t cry. I called a lawyer.
The divorce left Michael with half his savings and a guilty conscience. Anna got a man who’d cheat on his grieving wife. I got freedom.
Three years later, I almost didn’t recognize them at the gas station. Their luxury car had been replaced with a dented sedan, and their perfect Instagram life had clearly crumbled. As I filled up my tank – Daniel waiting with coffee in our comfortable SUV – I realized something shocking: I pitied them.
Turns out the best revenge isn’t anger – it’s indifference.
