“What can I get you? Chardonnay?” She ignores my question.

I nod and watch her walk off. It still hurts. It’s been almost six months now, but there walks a woman I believed I knew through and through. A woman who told me she loved me nearly every day of our life together. A woman who lied. A woman who broke my heart into a million pieces. The worst part of it all is, after she’d been sleeping with Julie for close to a year, and finally had found the courage to tell me—and leave me in the process—she made it sound as though it was all my fault.

She returns with two wine glasses filled to the brim.

“To it officially all being over.” I raise my glass.

Rebecca doesn’t raise her glass. She just drinks. “Thanks for being so agreeable about all the legal stuff.”

“It’s not because I’m a scorned woman that I have to behave like one.”

Rebecca cocks her head. “Do you think we can have a conversation without the sarcasm?”

“Oh, are you going to be the mature one this time?”

“Please, I’m begging you, Zoya. I just want to talk. We just divided our assets. Can we just be civilized for ten minutes?”

“Fine.” I look away. The bar is empty this time of the day.

“I just wanted to check in with you. See how you’re doing,” Rebecca says.

When I look into her eyes, it’s as though I can see all the good times we had together. We were so happy for such a long time. Was I really the one who fucked it all up? Who drove her into the arms of another woman?

“Maybe I should take a sabbatical. Get out of the country for a bit. Maybe travel through India. Connect with my roots.”

“I still worry about you, even though we’re not together anymore,” Rebecca says.

“How nice of you.” The words just come out. I have no idea how to curb my bitter tongue. “Do you worry about me when you and Julie change the channel when my show comes on? Do you worry about me when you fall asleep with your arm around her? Every time she fills the space I used to take up in your life?”

“You’re clearly not ready for this.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

“I’ve apologized so many times already. I can’t see how me saying I’m sorry again will help, so I’m kind of at the end of my wits here.” Rebecca drinks from her wine in long gulps.

“What do you want from me? Why are we even sitting here? Can’t you see it’s just one big reminder of how things used to be, before… you-know-who.”