The Night I Finally Chose Myself

That night — the night with the panties — may have looked petty to some. But to me, it was the night I stopped accepting crumbs.

The night I stopped begging for honesty from a man who no longer saw me.

Now, I live alone. My space. My rules. No locked phones. No strange perfumes. No secrets.

Dante and I take it slow. He has a daughter who calls me her “Sunday pancake buddy.”

There’s stillness. Laughter. Air.

One evening, Mira joined me on the balcony.

“Do you regret not confronting him sooner?” she asked.

I sipped my wine and smiled.

Continue reading…