I ignored them. I had enough. I wiped my hands on my apron and stood up. “I’m going out for groceries.”
Mike narrowed his eyes. “Now? Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get food. Or do you want Sasha to do it too?” I spat back before I could stop myself. I didn’t wait for an answer. I grabbed my old coat and stepped out into the night, the cold air slapping my cheeks like freedom waiting at the edge of a cliff.
When I came back, arms heavy with cheap vegetables and instant noodles, I found a box on the porch. My name on the label—Mrs. Karylle Reid. For one foolish second, my chest squeezed tight with hope.
Maybe. Maybe this was one of those rare moments when they remembered. All the times they’d fought with me, they’d come back with flowers or small gifts—empty apologies to keep me chained.
I sat on the hallway bench, tearing the tape open with my keys. My fingers trembled when I pulled out glossy travel brochures. Bright cartoon castles, happy children with mouse ears. My heart thudded.
Disneyland. The same dream Mike dangled in front of me twenty years ago, the same promise he made to keep me obedient.