I hired a new receptionist, Shireen. Her husband? My ex, Malik. I said hello. That was it.
The next day, she calmly told me, “Thank you for hiring me. Now I know who he really is.” She’d found old emails, realized his lies, and wanted the truth.
Months later, Malik showed up, hinting at “us.” I shut it down and told Shireen everything. She resigned quietly.
Weeks later, I ran into her. She hugged me. “I left him,” she said. She’d uncovered his double life — lies, secrets, manipulation.
Over the year, she rebuilt her life. I got promoted and returned to painting, something Malik always mocked. One day, she sent me a photo: a tiny cake with “I JUST LEFT HIM.” Her way of celebrating freedom.
Malik? Gone, new state, new name.
He thought he could break us. Instead, he created a sisterhood.
