“Mark, for years I’ve stood by your side, hoping you’d treat me with the respect I deserve. But this,” I gestured to his soaked shirt, “this is the last time I’ll be your punching bag.”
The words were liberating, echoing around the room. I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders as I looked at the stunned faces of the very people who had belittled me. Margaret’s smug demeanor had vanished, replaced by an expression of shock.
“Emily, you’re making a scene,” Mark stammered, finally finding his voice.
