So, I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and forced my voice to steady.
“I need your help,” I told the receptionist.
She had clearly seen situations like this before. Her expression softened, and she nodded. “Tell me what you have in mind.”
I glanced at the elevator, replaying the image in my head—my husband’s hand on her waist, my best friend laughing like nothing in the world could touch them.
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