messages twice.
Then I sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the air conditioner humming above me.
My husband had abandoned me in a foreign country without my passport, phone, wallet, or confirmed flight home.
And his mother had apparently considered it entertaining.
They expected me to panic. They expected tears, desperate phone calls, and perhaps a humiliating apology to the woman who had spent seven years reminding me that I wasn’t good enough for her son.
They expected me to beg.
Instead, I placed the note
