, “I think it’s time for a change, don’t you?”
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. Margaret’s eyes were wide with shock, her fork suspended in mid-air. Mark’s face, dripping with red wine, was a picture of disbelief. The tension that had simmered through the evening now hung heavily over our table, but for the first time, I felt a flicker of something else—liberation.
I had spent years walking the tightrope between pleasing my husband and trying to win Margaret’s approval, but in that moment, I realized that it was a path leading nowhere. I had allowed their offhand remarks and subtle humiliations to chip away at my confidence, eroding my sense of self-worth slowly but surely. The wine, now soaking into the tablecloth and Mark’s shirt, felt like a cleansing rain washing away years of repression.
