The sight of Chloe on her knees should feel like victory. For months after our divorce, I imagined this moment. Her pride shattered. Her arrogance replaced by desperation. Her finally understanding what she threw away.
But looking down at her now, all I feel is disgust.
"Get up," I tell her coldly.
She shakes her head, clutching at the hem of my pants. "No. Not until you forgive me. Not until you give me another chance."
Her mascara has turned her cheeks into black rivers. Her perfectly styled hair hangs limp around her face. The designer dress she wore to impress me is wrinkled from her dramatic collapse.
"This is pathetic, Chloe."
"I don't care!" she sobs. "Let it be pathetic! I deserve to be humiliated after what I did to you!"
Mia hovers nearby, wringing her hands. "Chloe, please get up. This isn't helping anything."
But Chloe ignores her friend completely. Her grip on my pants tightens as she looks up at me with wild, desperate eyes.
