I was shocked by how many people had shown up. There were 100s of people out there waiting for me, including 10 reporters. My book had just won a Pulitzer Prize. As I sat behind the curtains waiting for my name to be called, I thought of myself as a little girl. I could never have imagined myself making it this far.

My novel was called ‘Devil Doesn’t Bargain’. It’s about the toxic relationship I had with my ex, Nick. Basically, we got married at 17, divorced at 20, back together at 21, remarried at 22, had twins at 24, divorced again at 25 (where he decided he wanted no part in his toddlers’ lives because he couldn’t stand to be near me), then we reunited at 27 and started having sex again even though he didn’t want any involvement with our children. Finally I broke up with him when we were 28. For the last time, telling him that he was never going to change. He would only break my heart again and again and again.

And now, nearly a decade later, I was finally happy. The twins were high schoolers and living their best life (one a soccer player, the other a theatre nerd, both kind and generous kids). And I was a published author, and recipient of the Pulitzer Prize.

Today I was giving my acceptance speech and answering questions about my book. I took a deep breath. I could do this.

“And now, please welcome Lucy McAllister, the author of Devil Doesn’t Bargain, to the stage!” That was my cue.

Hands shaking and struggling to breathe, I mad my way only stage. I stepped up to the small stage and cleared my throat. I thanked everyone for being there today and spoke a little bit about my book and how much it helped me through a hard part of my life. As time went on, I got less nervous and more confident in myself.

Then I opened up to questions. People asked to know more about the story, about how I was doing today, about Nick (who, in the novel, I called ‘Steve’).

And then a tall man with sharp features and shining eyes raised his hand in a somehow sexy way.

“So, the Steve that you talked about in this story . . .” He grinned at me in an all-too-familiar way. “Say he read your book. Say he realized how horrible he was to you, how much he unintentionally hurt the woman he loves more than anyone in the whole world. Say he went to you and apologized and begged for you to take him back. Would you forgive him? Would you give it another shot?”

I stared at Nick, speechless. Like, I literally could not let myself speak. I reminded myself again and again—this was what my award-winning book was all about. I couldn’t take him back, no matter how much I still loved him, because I knew how this ended. It ended with me sobbing as he walked out the door again.

And yet as I stated at him all I could think about were the good times. Him kissing me and telling me how much he loved me. Him holding my hand as I gave birth to the twins. Him wearing a birth stimulator while I was breastfeeding, us laughing through our exhaustion. Him, dancing with me in the rain at our high school prom.

But the I remembered every time he left. Every time he told me I wasn’t good enough. Every time he walked out the door. Having to explain to my kids on Father’s Day why they didn’t have a Daddy to give their cards to.

I stared at him right in the eye and said, calmly, firmly, like when I instructed the twins to do something, “No, she wouldn’t.”

I smiled to myself. He didn’t leave for the rest of the convention, but I ignored him and continued answering questions. Finally, while everyone cheered for me in the end, he walked out.

As I walked out of the convention, I felt victorious. And the best part was, it didn’t have a single thing to do with Nick.