My Own Mother Hid Her Wedding From Me, but Nothing Prepared Me for Who She Married

I bit down on the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t snap. He always did this—pushed his load on me at the end of the day like I didn’t have a life of my own. Like my time didn’t matter.

At the door, he paused, one hand on the frame.

“One more thing…” He looked back at me, eyes narrowed like he wanted to say something important. But then he shook his head.

“Never mind. Some other time.”

And he was gone.

I sat back in my chair, fists clenched, heart pounding. Six more months, I told myself. Just six.

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