“Mom,” she said, leaning against my shoulder, “do you ever miss our old house?”
I thought of the kitchen table. The iPad. The messages. The woman I had been before that morning split me open.
“Sometimes,” I said. “But I don’t miss who I was there.”
Bailey nodded like that made perfect sense.
“I like who you are here.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“Me too.”
The next week, my facade design for the downtown project was approved. Patricia called me into her office and offered me a promotion.
“You have a gift, Naomi,” she said. “You see what old things can become without pretending they weren’t damaged.”
I laughed softly.
“I guess I’ve had practice.”
That night, I wore the red dress I had bought after leaving Trevor. The one that made me feel visible. Strong. Alive.
I took Bailey and Simone to dinner downtown. We sat by the window while carriages rolled past outside and warm Charleston air drifted in every time the door opened.
My phone stayed silent in my purse.
No threats.
No lies.
No man demanding that I shrink so he could feel tall.
Just laughter. Food. My sister telling a ridiculous story. My daughter smiling with sauce on her chin. My own reflection in the glass, looking back at me like someone I had been waiting years to meet.
Trevor once took his ex to Bali to make me jealous.
He thought I would fall apart.
He thought I would beg.
He thought my love for him had made me weak.
But love had never been the weak part.
Staying where I was being destroyed had been the weak part.
Leaving was the moment I remembered my strength.
And when I finally stopped fighting for a man who never deserved me, I won back everything he had tried to take.
My name.
My daughter’s peace.
My work.
My voice.
My future.
My freedom.
