I contacted Camille even though Rosalind had warned me not to. I was tired of discovering pieces of my own life from other people, and I needed to hear the truth directly. We met at a café near the ferry terminal, where Camille arrived with her young son. She explained that she had believed Julian was separated from me and that their marriage was already ending. He had told her the house, jewelry, and other details of our life were simply part of a relationship that was falling apart.

Camille said Julian had made her believe he was a free man who was helping her during a difficult time. What surprised me most was learning that she had actually known about me since the mall incident. That same afternoon, she ended the relationship, told Julian to return to his wife, and blocked him. She later realized that he had spent weeks keeping both of us confused instead of telling the truth.

I did not divorce Julian. Instead, we went to counseling for fourteen months. He changed in many ways and became quieter, kinder, and more willing to be honest about even ordinary things. Still, something between us never fully returned. I began checking receipts, timestamps, and the odometer—not because I constantly suspected him, but because broken trust had changed the way I lived.

Camille eventually remarried, while Rosalind and I became unexpectedly close. We now have lunch together every Thursday, and that friendship has become important to me. Sometimes I still wonder whether staying with Julian was truly love or simply the weight of thirteen years together.

The folder containing everything remains on my computer. I have never opened it again, but I have never deleted it either. I suppose that says something about what happened: the relationship continued, but the version of trust I once had did not.