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The Night a Bowl of Hot Soup Ended My Marriage—and Began My Freedom
Then Andrew lifted the heavy tureen of steaming soup.
The shock hit before the pain. The burning liquid ran down my face, neck, and shoulders. I gasped, frozen in disbelief, unable to move or speak.
Behind me, Helen laughed.
“Oh, Andrew, honestly—you’re too dramatic!”
Not a gasp. Not concern. She laughed.
