“Then I guess Sarah’s learning what it feels like to be abandoned.”

***

Over the next few weeks, I heard bits and pieces through the gossip network that had once been our social circle. Sarah was staying with a friend from college two towns over. She’d applied for jobs but kept getting recognized from the video that was still circulating on local Facebook groups. Someone had created a fake dating profile for her with screenshots from the video: *Cheating Sarah. Available for your brother, too.*

Jake had moved three states away, changed his number, and deleted all social media. My parents were devastated, having lost both sons in different ways, but they never asked me to forgive him. They’d seen the video, too.

I filed for divorce, citing adultery. In our state, that meant no alimony, no splitting of assets. Sarah would get nothing except whatever she could carry. She didn’t even contest it. Her lawyer probably told her she had no case.

Three months later, I was sitting in my kitchen—the same kitchen where I destroyed both their lives with a few phone taps—when my doorbell rang. Sarah stood on my porch, looking like a ghost of herself. Thin, pale, wearing clothes I didn’t recognize.

“Mark, please. Just five minutes.”

I almost closed the door. Almost. But something in her face stopped me. She looked broken. Completely, utterly broken.