The cold night air hit my face. I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs, cleansing me somehow. The sky was clear, full of stars that glittered like tiny reminders that the world was bigger than my pain.
I drove home in silence. No music, no radio, just me and my thoughts.
I thought about Michael when he was little, how he used to hug me and tell me that when he grew up, he’d buy me a big house. I thought about all the times I sacrificed my own needs for his. I thought about the years of hard work, the sleepless nights, the skipped meals so he could eat.
And I thought about how, despite all of that, I had ended up sitting in my own restaurant, watching him eat lobster while he gave me only water.
I arrived at my apartment, the same small but comfortable apartment where I had lived for fifteen years. Two bedrooms, a modest kitchen, a living room with old but comfortable furniture.
Marleene had asked why I lived like this if I had so much money. The answer was simple. This place was mine. I had earned it and I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.