The fourth night blurred into the fifth, and then, suddenly, I was back in my clothes, standing outside like nothing had happened. My phone buzzed with James’s messages, but I felt nothing.

He had finally filed for divorce. Good for him.

That afternoon a driver came to fetch me. James had “reported” me to his parents. I almost laughed; the man who’d been running around impregnating strangers was suddenly the victim, reminding me that this was a man's world. I went anyway, wanting to see the performance and what his parents had to say.

Their house smelled of money and old perfume. James’s mother sat stiff and regal, pearls at...