As I left the reception hall, dripping but determined, I could feel the eyes of everyone present boring into my back. I took a deep breath, letting the cool evening air fill my lungs. The night sky stretched above me, a canopy of stars twinkling like distant, silent witnesses to my moment of revelation.
Standing just outside the venue, I reached into my soaked clutch, extracting my phone with trembling hands. The device was thankfully waterproof, a gift from my husband, who always thought of everything. I dialed a number that had been engraved in my memory, each digit a promise of the life I led away from prying eyes and constant judgment.
“Arthur,” I said as his familiar voice filled my ear, “it’s time.”
