The ride home was quiet.
The bags designer labels and luxury fabric tucked into soft paper and glossy boxes in the backseat felt like they belonged to someone else. Someone like Vivian, maybe. Someone who’d grown up expecting shopping sprees, private lunches, and powerful men cheering her every move.
This was all new to me. And while it made me feel more and more like I was leaving my past behind, it was still a bit hard to wrap my mind around. I leaned my head against the window as the city blurred past. I didn’t want to feel bad for Vivian. I really didn’t.
But part of me maybe the part that still remembered holding hands with her when we were younger when I was still very certain that she and I would be the best of friends, did feel bad for her. Knowing that this was just a taste of
