Chapter 3

Brittney

Brittney’s pov

“I’m being honest,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Something this family seems to be having a hard time with!”

“You’re overreacting,” he snapped. “This isn’t the time or place for this.”

“Why not?” I shot back, my voice trembling. “This family has never had a problem tearing me apart in public. So why can’t I speak my truth?”

Lorraine cleared her throat, giving me a pointed disappointed look. “Dear, I don’t think this is the appropriate time to….”

“No!” I interrupted, turning my attention back to Tony. My heart was beating faster than it should but I refused to stop.

“I’ve spent three years giving everything I have to this marriage. Three years trying to prove myself to you, to your family, to everyone. And for what? To sit here and be humiliated while you say nothing?"

“Brittney, that’s enough,” Tony growled, his voice low and threatening.

“It’s not enough!” I said, my voice rising. “Do you want to know what I texted you last night, Tony? I told you I want a divorce and I meant it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lorraine’s face remained frozen, devoid of any emotion but her eye narrowed. Margaret stared at me, wide—eyed, befor a slow, disbelieving smile spread across her lips.

Tony’s jaw clenched so tightly, I thought his teeth might shatter. “You’re being ridiculous,” he finally said.

“Am I?” I countered. “You didn’t come home last night—on our anniversary. And I know exactly where you were. So tell me, who’s being ridiculous here?”

“This is not appropriate dinner conversation,” Lorriane interjected, her voice cold. “If you have any issues in your marriage, they should be discussed publicly, not aired out like dirty laundry.”

“Why not?” I asked, turning to face her. “You’ve never had a problem criticizing me in front of everyone. Why should I play nice when none of you do?”

Tony slammed his hand against the table, making the silverware jump. “Enough!” He barked, “we’ll discuss this later.”

“No,” I said, standing from my chair. My legs trembled, but I held my ground. “We’ll discuss it now. I want a divorce, and nothing your mother says is going to change my mind.”

Lorraine’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “Then leave,” she said in a cold voice. “You’re nothing without us, anyway.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “I’d rather be nothing to stay here another second.”

I turned and walked out of the room, my steps shaky. But I kept moving, I didn’t dare look back.

Tony didn’t call after me. He didn’t follow. And that hurt more than anything they’d said.

I made it as far as the street, before it hit me. My breath came in short, sharp gasps as tears blurred my vision. I leaned against a lamppost, clutching my arms to myself.

For the first time in years, I was alone—truly, utterly alone.

~.~

It had been a week since the dinner, the papers were already signed. Tony hadn’t hesitated, not for a second. The speed with which he scrawled his name across the documents, was like a knife twisting in my chest.

It was as though he’d been waiting for this, eager to be free of me.

Well, now he was free—to be with her.

I told myself I should feel relief. And in some ways, I did. But there was a hollow ache I couldn’t shake.

I missed him. I knew I shouldn’t but after years of being tied to him, the absence of him felt strange.

To clear my head, I left the city and returned to my hometown. The only place where I’d ever truly felt loved.

The bus hissed as it pulled to a stop, and I stepped onto the familiar ground. The first thing I saw was my mother standing at the edge of the driveway, arms crossed and a warm smile on her lips.

Her blonde—streaked hair was tied back, neatly and her eyes were filled with relief

As I approached, she opened her arms and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Oh, my girl, you’re finally home,” she whispered.

Her voice was filled with love that I couldn’t help but cling to her like I had when I was a child. For the first time in weeks, I felt safe.

“Mom,” I said softly, pulling back to look at her. “I’ve missed you.”

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Come inside, I made your favorite.”

The small house I’d grown up in, smelled like roasted chicken and freshly baked bread.

As we sat down to eat, I let my guard down. Years of pent-up frustration and hurt poured out as I recounted my struggles. I spoke about Tony’s indifference, the resentment I’d buried, and the shame that cling to me like a second skin.

My mom pulled me into an embrace, her hands rubbing soothing circles on my back. “It’s okay baby, “ she whispered. “Let it all out.”

I sobbed unto her shoulder, the words spilling out within shaky breaths. “What if, I never find someone better, mom? What if they were right? Maybe in nothing without them. Maybe I won’t survive this.”

“Shhh,” she soothed, “Brittney, listen to me.”

She pulled back, cupping my face in her hands. “You did the bravest thing you could have done. Leaving that man was the best decision of your life. I’m so proud of you.”

Her voice warmed me, but a small voice whispered at the back of my mind. What life?

For three years if existed as Tony’s shadow. My dreams, ambitions, everything I was had been buried under his needs. Now that I was free, I didn’t even know where to begin.

She leaned back in her chair, sensing my hesitation. “Do you remember when you were little?”

I sniffled, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “What about it?”

“You used to spend hours making those bead bracelets. You’d sell them to the neighbors for pocket money.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah. I even made that charm necklace for Mrs Connor’s anniversary. She still wears it, you know.”

“You’ve always had a knack for creating beautiful things,” she said softly. “Maybe it’s time you get back to that.”

Jewelry making had been my passion once. A small, innocent dream I’d abandoned when I married Tony. He’d call it a “silly hobby” insisting I focus on being the perfect wife instead.

Could u really pick it up again?

“You don’t have to decide now,” mom added gently. “But think about it. You’ve always been happiest when creating.”

I nodded, her words replayed in my mind long after she left me to rest.

That night I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts wouldn’t quiet.

Eventually. I gave up and climbed out of the bed. I padded up the narrow stairs to the attic, and began rummaging through the clutter.

The box was exactly where I’d left it all those years ago, tucked into a corner beneath a layer of dusts. My hands trembled as I pulled it free and opened the lid.

Inside were tools, pliers, wire cutters, spools of wire and tiny compartments filled with beads of every color. They were even half finished designs—projects I’d started but never completed

I traced my fingers over the tools, this wasn’t just a hobby, it was a piece of me, one I was ready to reclaim, but what if i wasn’t good enough?