Two months after our d.i.v.o.r.c.e, I found my ex-wife sitting alone in a hospital corridor—and the moment she looked up at me, every excuse I had made about our marriage suddenly felt wrong.

I pulled a chair beside her bed.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Sophie looked down at her hands.

“Because we’re divorced.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

She swallowed.

“I didn’t want you to come back because you felt sorry for me.”

I stared at her.

“You thought I’d do that?”

“You already left once.”