As I stood there, I realized that the woman before me wasn’t just a stranger caught in the web of my husband’s deceit. She was a person, with her own story, her own struggles, and her own pain.
« I’m sorry, » I found myself saying, the words unexpected but genuine. « I’m sorry for what he’s done, for what you’re going through. »
She looked at me then, her eyes softening slightly as she nodded. « Thank you, » she replied, a hint of relief in her voice.
We sat in silence for a moment, the tension between us dissipating as we shared a quiet understanding. In the midst of the turmoil, there was a strange sense of solidarity, a connection forged through shared pain.
Eventually, I rose to leave, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. « If you need anything, please let me know, » I offered, unsure of what else I could say.
« I will, » she promised, her voice steadier now.
As I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, I couldn’t help but glance back, feeling the weight of her gaze on my back. There was more to uncover, more to confront, and I knew the path ahead would be anything but easy.
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