When I opened the front door that evening, I expected to see thirty guests gathered inside for the party my husband had organized. Instead, I found a woman standing on the other side of the doorway. She looked at me with an expression that told me she already knew exactly who I was. I immediately understood that she must be Sabine, my husband’s ex. My husband had apparently invited her without telling me, believing I would simply accept the situation because I was supposedly mature enough to handle it.

I didn’t argue or demand an explanation. I looked at her and said, “You must be Sabine. I’m Delphine. I’m leaving. The party is yours.” Then I picked up my coat from the hook, walked past her, and closed the door behind me. My duffel bag was already waiting in the van. Twenty minutes earlier, I had quietly texted my friend Margot from the bathroom, asking her to meet me nearby. As we drove away, I didn’t know what would happen next. I only knew that I had reached a point where pretending everything was fine was no longer an option. Later, I would learn that Sabine’s response inside that house was something I would never forget.