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I caught my ex-mother-in-law digging through a dumpster behind my office. Fifteen years earlier, she’d taken my side in my divorce. When I asked what had happened to her, the story she told me didn’t just break my heart — it forced me to take action.
I’m 39, and if you’d asked me last month if the past could still grab you by the throat, I’d have laughed.
I was wrong.
Fifteen years ago, I divorced my husband, Caleb.
We were young in the way that makes you confident and stupid at the same time.
You know what I mean?
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