Each word was a hammer blow. My throat burned, my hands trembled. I excused myself, my heels clicking on the polished floor.

“Go on, cry, calm down, idiot,” he muttered after me.

In the bathroom, the dam broke. Tears streaked down my face, mascara bleeding onto my cheeks. I stared at my reflection and barely recognized the woman staring back — hollow eyes, broken smile. For years, I had endured his barbed words, his disdain, convincing myself it was love. But in that moment, I felt something shift.

No more, I whispered to the mirror. This ends now.