They praised how “well-behaved” I was, how “accommodating,” how I “knew my place.” It felt like I was drowning in words meant to humiliate. I had wanted to go back to nursing school. Maxwell had told me I was too stupid and I’d embarrass the family. I said nothing—but Emma saw that too.
Emma’s Stand
Emma grew rigid in her chair as her father’s family cut deeper. When insults grew crueler—noting my lack of ambition, my weaknesses—her patience broke. She asserted that I was the smartest person she knew, and called them out for making me “look stupid” in front of her. The room went silent.
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