“I’m done asking you to make yourself smaller so other people can stay comfortable.”
That was when I cried.
I cried for the baby we lost. I cried for the weeks I hated my reflection. And I cried because I had married a man willing to burn down his toxic past to keep me safe.
I sat in the passenger seat, my black swimsuit damp in the tote bag at my feet, and for the first time since the darkest day of my life, the fog lifted.
