"He is disgraced. He engineered a marriage, lied to you for two years, and had an affair with his teenage stepsister. That's objectively disgraceful."
"But they're also defending him. Saying she's hot. Saying I was probably frigid or toxic or?—"
"Julie." Her voice is firm now. "You cannot control what strangers on the internet say. You can't control their opinions, their judgments, their projections. The only thing you can control is whether or not you engage with it."
"I can't stop reading it."
"That's a trauma response. Your brain is trying to prepare for the next attack by gathering information. But it's not helping you. It's hurting you."
Tears stream down my face. "I thought I was done. I thought the worst was over. I left him. I got out. I'm supposed to be healing and now—now everyone knows for sure, it isn't just rumors, and they're all talking about me and I can't?—"
"This is a second trauma," Dr. Blanche says gently. "The first was the betrayal and manipulation. The second is the public exposure. And yes, it's unfair. It's deeply unfair that your private pain is now public entertainment."
"I didn't want this," I sob. "I didn't want anyone to know. I just wanted to disappear and heal and?—"
"I know. But Julie, listen to me. This was always going to happen. Asher Stevens is a public figure. His father was a public figure. The moment you separated, the moment the trust was distributed, this was inevitable."
"But the comments?—"
"Are cruel. They say more about our society's obsession with wealth and scandal than they do about you." She pauses. "But here's what I want you to consider: the photos are real. Asher and Devon are together, publicly, and now everyone knows it. Which means you're no longer the only one who knows the truth."
I cock my head, considering that.
"He's exposed now," she continues. "His actions are visible. And yes, people will have opinions. Some will blame you. Some will blame him. Some will sexualize Devon or defend Asher or create narratives that have nothing to do with reality. But none of that changes what actually happened. None of it changes the fact that you were manipulated, gaslit, and betrayed. And none of it changes the fact that you got out."
"I feel like I'm drowning again," I whisper.
"I know. But you're not. You're sitting in a cabin on a ship in the Caribbean with your mother who loves you. You're two weeks into a healing journey. You're doing the work. And this—" she gestures toward the phone, "—is just noise. Painful noise, but noise nonetheless."
"How do I make it stop?"
"You don't engage. You don't read the comments. You don't defend yourself or explain yourself or try to control the narrative. You let it be what it is: other people's opinions about a situation they don't understand."
"But what if people think I'm the villain?"
"Some will. And that's okay. Because the people who matter—your sister, Ryan, your mother, me—we know the truth. And more importantly,youknow the truth."
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "I hate this."
"I know you do. And you're allowed to hate it. You're allowed to be angry and hurt and scared. But Julie, I need you to hear me: this doesn't undo your progress. This doesn't mean you'reback at square one. This is just another wave. And you're going to ride it out."
"How?"
"By stepping away from social media. By not reading the comments. By focusing on what you can control—your healing, your therapy, your time with your mother. By remembering that Asher's choices are not your responsibility. His consequences are not your burden."
I nod slowly, even though it feels impossible.
"Can you do something for me?" Dr. Blanche asks.
"What?"
"Delete Instagram from your phone. Right now. Just for a few days. Give yourself space from it."
My finger hovers over the app. "What if something important happens?"
"Then someone who loves you will tell you. But right now, that app is a weapon you're using against yourself. Put it down."
I take a shaky breath. And then I delete it.
