One year after my divorce, I ran into my ex-husband in the pediatric wing of the hospital where I worked

that it had been fabricated by her former spouse.

So I sat in that office and said I had no idea, and then I spent fourteen months not saying it, to anybody, including my own sister.

And the complaint did what it was built to do — not because it was clever, but because I did exactly what he knew I would do, which is to be reasonable about it.

That is what I have had to take. Not that he did it. That he could predict me down to the