I thought my life with my ex-husband was firmly in the past until a message request from a stranger appeared on my phone late one night. When I saw who she was married to, I realized ignoring it wasn’t an option. I’m 32.

You can call me Maren. I typed this story the same way I would’ve texted a friend at 1:47 a.m., because even now my brain keeps going, “Nope. That didn’t happen.”

Let me explain.

I hadn’t spoken to my ex-husband, Elliot, in almost two years. We were together for eight years, married for five. We had no children, but not by choice.

Elliot was infertile. Or at least that’s the story he told me, doctors, and eventually friends, until it became the truth we lived inside. Our divorce was brutal but final. Papers were signed, and arrangements with lawyers were made. We blocked each other everywhere afterward. I rebuilt my life.

That’s what I told myself I did. Then last Tuesday, my phone buzzed while I was half-watching a rerun and folding laundry I’d already put off for days. It was a Facebook message request from a woman I didn’t recognize.

Weary, I did a quick background check without reading the message. Her profile picture looked harmless. She had a soft smile, dark-blonde hair pulled back, and a neutral background that could’ve been anywhere.

Nothing alarming. Until I saw her last name. It was the same as Elliot’s!

My stomach dropped so hard I actually pressed my palm against it, as if that would stop the feeling from spreading. I stared at the screen for far too long before reopening the woman’s original message. Like, if I didn’t click on it, it couldn’t be real.

As if the universe needed my permission to ruin my evening. The message was short, polite, and almost rehearsed. But it was anything but innocent.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you. I’m Elliot’s new wife.

I know this is strange, but I need to ask you something.