Chapter 4: Breaking the Chains

Very soon, I would be free. The word tasted sweet and strange. I clung to it like a lifeline.

Just as the food was ready, Jonathan came home. His keys jingled in the lock, and for a moment, I almost hoped he’d be alone. But I knew better.

As expected, Lauren Sterling came in behind him with her daughter. “Hey, sorry to trouble you again.” Lauren’s voice was light, almost apologetic, but there was a hint of expectation there too. She breezed in, her perfume—Chanel No. 5—lingering in the air.

Lauren was very fair-skinned, with an oval face, and her bright red pea coat gave her an irresistible charm. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a lifestyle magazine, her hair in perfect waves, her smile practiced and bright. I felt plain by comparison, invisible in my own home.

Her daughter was used to coming over; seeing that dinner was ready, she cheered and quickly went to serve herself mac and cheese. Emmy’s laughter rang out as she grabbed a juice box from the fridge, her sparkly backpack tossed onto a chair. She knew exactly where the spoons were, how to set the table. It was as if she’d always lived here.

One bowl for her, one for Jonathan, one for Lauren. I watched them settle in, their movements easy and familiar. They didn’t even glance my way.

But— None for me. My place at the table was empty. I hovered in the doorway, wiping my hands on my jeans, the sting of being ignored sharper than ever.

When I came out of the kitchen, the three of them were already happily sitting at the table, chatting and laughing like a family. Their voices overlapped, filling the room with warmth that didn’t include me. I felt like a ghost, haunting the edges of their happiness.

But as soon as they tasted the food, all three spat it out at once. “Mom, it’s so salty!” Emmy’s face scrunched up, and Lauren reached for her water glass. Jonathan looked confused, then embarrassed.

I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching as Jonathan hurriedly served soup to the mother and daughter. He moved quickly, trying to smooth things over. I could see the worry lines creasing his forehead.

But the soup was even saltier. Lauren gagged, tears springing to her eyes. Emmy pushed her bowl away, pouting.

In the end, Lauren left in tears. She gathered Emmy’s coat, her own cheeks streaked with mascara. “Thank you, but we should go.”

Before leaving, she said to Jonathan, “She probably doesn’t want me here. I won’t come again.” Her voice was soft, but the accusation was clear. She shot me a wounded look before hurrying out.