“Get up, you lazy cow! Do you think being pregnant makes you a queen? Get downstairs and cook for my parents NOW!” At 5 a.m., my husband dragged me out of bed while his parents laughed. As I collapsed in pain, they had no idea I had already sent a message that would save my life….

“It’s okay,” I said, hugging him. “You just fell. We get back up.”

He giggled and ran off again.

I sat back on the bench and took a deep breath. The air smelled of spring. It smelled of freedom.

I thought about Daniel, sitting in a cell, blaming everyone but himself. I thought about Agnes, bitter and alone.

And then I looked at my son, running in the sunlight.

They tried to break me to build a cage for him. Instead, I broke the cage and built a world.

I pulled out my phone. I didn’t check for angry texts. I checked my email. A publisher wanted to turn my blog into a book.

I smiled.

At 5 a.m. tomorrow, I will be awake. But not because I have to make breakfast for monsters.

I will be awake because my son might need a drink of water. Or just because I want to watch the sunrise.

And that choice is the greatest luxury of all.