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“I didn’t say—”

She clapped softly. “Congratulations. Three years fucking my husband and now you’ve discovered honesty.”

I flinched. “He told me your marriage was over.”

Ravenna burst out laughing. “What?”

“He told me he wanted a divorce.”

Her laughter stopped. “And?”

“He said he couldn’t leave because of your mental health.”

Her face went completely blank. “My what?”

I stared at her. “Your depression.”

She blinked. “Oh my God.”

“He said after the fertility treatments—”

“My fertility?”

“He said you were struggling after you found out you couldn’t have children.”

Ravenna stared at me, then looked toward the ceiling like she needed God to physically come explain my stupidity.

“What mental-health crisis?”

My mouth went dry. “He said you barely left the house.”

“I work four days a week.”

“He said you stopped working.”

“I stopped working for six months when I traveled back home to be with my family. That was over two years ago.”

My stomach sank. “He said you slept in separate rooms.”

“We did.”

Relief came until she continued.

“For a few weeks… After I found out about some shit he had done.”

I stared.

Ravenna stepped closer. “Our rough patch wasn’t because I couldn’t have a baby.”

My heart started to beat harder.

“It wasn’t because I was too depressed to function.”

She laughed bitterly. “And if anyone’s mental health needs evaluating, it is Caleb’s because apparently that motherfucker built an entire second universe.”

My stomach twisted. “He told me you threatened to hurt yourself when he discussed leaving.”

Her face turned confused. “I told my husband I didn’t know what my life looked like anymore.”