I ignored them. I had enough. I wiped my hands on my apron and stood up. “I’m going out for groceries.”
Mike narrowed his eyes. “Now? Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get food. Or do you want Sasha to do it too?” I spat back before I could stop myself. I didn’t wait for an answer. I grabbed my old coat and stepped out into the night, the cold air slapping my cheeks like freedom waiting at the edge of a cliff.
When I came back, arms heavy with cheap vegetables and instant noodles, I found a box on the porch. My name on the label—Mrs. Karylle Reid. For one foolish second, my chest squeezed tight with hope.
Maybe. Maybe this was one of those rare moments when they remembered. All the times they’d fought with me, they’d come back with flowers or small gifts—empty apologies to keep me chained.
I sat on the hallway bench, tearing the tape open with my keys. My fingers trembled when I pulled out glossy travel brochures. Bright cartoon castles, happy children with mouse ears. My heart thudded.
Disneyland. The same dream Mike dangled in front of me twenty years ago, the same promise he made to keep me obedient.
I flipped through the itinerary—four tickets. Mike Reid, Nico Reid, Sasha Lopez, Maureen Diaz, Micah Diaz. Not a single mention of me.
Nico’s hand grabbed the papers from my lap. “What the hell are you doing? This isn’t yours.”
“It was addressed to me,” I said, my voice thin but calm.
“Oh, right, sorry.” Sasha appeared behind him, pressing a finger to her lips as if this was all a silly misunderstanding. “I put your name down to receive it. I’m never home, so it made sense.” She laughed softly, eyes sliding over me like I was gum on her shoe.
I swallowed. “Can I come with you?”
Mike barked out a sharp laugh. “And why the hell would you come to Disneyland?”
“Because… you’re all going. I thought… maybe—”
Nico cut in. “It’s for business. You wouldn’t know what to do there.”
“Because you never let me,” I said, and the words slipped out like poison from an old wound. “You made me leave everything behind. I had my own life—my own passion—”
Mike’s eyes glinted with that same cold rage. “Are you blaming me now? You chose this life when you married me. You knew what you were giving up.”
Yes. I did. I was stupid enough to believe him when he said marriage would be better than designing. Better than me. I was stupid enough to think love would hold them close.