I didn’t cry.
I had already spent far too many tears defending a truth that had never changed.
For illustration purposes only
The divorce continued.
It was slower than Diego had expected.
It was also more carefully negotiated and considerably fairer than the agreement he had initially tried to force me to sign.
The house was secured for me and the children.
Child support was established.
Diego agreed to participate in mandatory therapy as a condition of obtaining extended time with Nicolás and Emilia.
His mother also had responsibilities to fulfill.
Before she could meet the babies, I required a genuine apology.
Not a public performance.
Not a carefully worded statement designed to make other people admire her.
I wanted her to sit in my living room, look me in the eyes, and acknowledge what she had done.
Eventually, she came.
I was holding Emilia when she sat across from me.
