“Then Lena needs to stop making more decisions around it.”
I ended the call.
Two days later, Caleb called me.
He sounded exhausted.
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not.”
“I need to ask exactly what you remember before the pool.”
I told him about the brace, Lena complaining about it in pictures, her hearing me warn people not to touch that arm, and her telling me to smile before she shoved me.
I did not tell him what to do about his relationship. He didn’t ask.
Before we hung up, he said, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t misunderstand what I heard.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“What did she actually say?”
He hesitated.
“She told Sophia, ‘I knew she’d twist left because the right one is useless. That was the whole point.’”
My stomach turned.
“And Sophia?”
“She told Lena she’d taken it too far.”
“What did Lena say?”
“That everyone was acting like she tried to kill you.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Caleb said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not seeing things I probably should’ve seen before.”
That apology belonged to him.
For once, I didn’t rush to tell someone they had nothing to feel bad about.
A week after the wedding, my shoulder was still slipping during basic movement. My specialist recommended surgery.
I scheduled it for the following month.
During that same week, Lena sent me three messages.
The first said she was sorry I was hurt.
The second said she wished I understood that she had never intended the outcome.
The third came after I didn’t respond.
I hope you’re happy. Caleb won’t even talk to me normally because you’re letting him think I planned this.
The old me would have written paragraphs separating myself from consequences that belonged to her.
Instead, I wrote one sentence.
I am not responsible for what Caleb believes about things you said and did.
She didn’t answer.
The next morning, Sophia contacted me.
Can I come by? There is something you need to see.
She arrived carrying two coffees and barely touched hers. She sat at my kitchen table, turning the cardboard sleeve around the cup over and over.
Finally she said, “I should’ve told you before the wedding.”
My stomach tightened.