Then, colder still: “Are we clear?”
“Yes,” Marianne replied stiffly.
“Good,” Lena said. “Have a nice day.”
She ended the call before the woman could respond.
Her hands were trembling—not from fear, but from adrenaline. From something sharp and liberating.
She exhaled slowly, pressing her palm to her stomach as if grounding herself.
For years, she had swallowed things. Smiled through discomfort. Let people talk over her, pressure her, corner her into silence because it was easier, safer, expected.
Not anymore.
She looked down at her belly, feeling a small flutter beneath her skin.
“I won’t be a doormat anymore,” she whispered. “Not for them. Not for anyone.”
And for the first time since everything had begun to unravel, Lena felt it clearly—
She wasn’t afraid of the consequences.
