To read the whole story so far, go here:
18: A family dinner, our Sunday ritual, my husband and I visiting my parents. I’d never before felt so imprisoned by duty.
19” “Pass the potatoes, please,” Mother asked primly as my husband beamed, proud of my cooking. The food tasted of ash and dung.
20: When had my life become this? When had I become so concerned for what others thought? I had traded my happiness for their approval.
21: In the light of witch-green eyes, it now seemed to me a cheap bargain to have made.
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