One year after my divorce, I ran into my ex-husband in the pediatric wing of the hospital where I worked

I was “restricted from clinical duties pending investigation”, which means you come in. You badge in at the same door at half seven. You walk past your own clinic and you go to an office on the fourth floor and you do audit work that a band five could do, and at one o’clock you go to the same canteen as everybody who knows.

Fourteen months of that.