I no longer spared a glance for my repulsive husband or Emily’s fake sweetness, nor for my eager son.
Instead, I stormed into the bedroom, yanked open the closet, and dragged out a large duffel bag.
I dumped out all the old clothes inside and frantically searched.
At last, I found the red dress.
Ten years ago, when I decided to follow Jason’s family, my mother had bought it for me with tears in her eyes.
She had said, “Rachel, if Jason ever makes you suffer, come back home. I’ll cook you your favorite BBQ ribs.”
Back then, I had smiled with confidence, calling her overly worried.
Jason had even patted his chest in front of her, swearing he would never let me suffer.
But now, ten years later, those vows had faded, just like the color of this dress.
Right in front of Jason, I stripped off the house clothes he had bought me and slipped into the faded red dress.
Jason was about to drag Ethan out the door. When he saw me wearing the dress, he froze, then shouted, his voice laced with panic,
“Rachel, what the hell are you doing now?”
I walked over to the dining table, grabbed the divorce agreement, and hurled it straight at his face.
