Maya iced Anton out too.The four of us—me, Maya, Kylie, and Giselle—ditched him and went out to celebrate. He just trailed behind, dead quiet.While we were out, a message popped up from my old law firm. They wanted me back.Totally caught off guard, I could barely text back—my hands were shaking.After decades, I was back at my desk.The staff was mostly new, but they all knew my name—my photo still hung on the wall of top lawyers.Work kicked in fast. Even at seventy, I was swamped with cases.As New Year approached, the wall changed.They took down the photo of me at twenty-five.Up went a new one—me at seventy.I stood there smiling, tears slipping down before I even noticed.I'd proven it—age and history don't define a woman's worth.I could be a housewife or a top lawyer. My choice, always.I came home riding high... and there was Steven, wrecked and waiting at the door.Hadn't seen him since the trial.Turns out, after he lost the case, Mr. Futrell snitched.The
He looked even worse than at the restaurant—like a washed-up mess straight off the street, reeking of sweat and whatever else he'd rolled in.It wasn't about money. He still earned fine. But he and Anton had chewed through so many housekeepers with their demands, no one stuck around.When he spotted me, his eyes lit up. Guess it had been a while since he saw me like this—suited up, makeup on point. I'd even paused at the mirror that morning, a little impressed myself.Then the trial started.Steven came in swinging, loaded with "evidence" that Mrs. Futrell couldn't survive without her husband. Tried to sell the court on her being clueless, spoiled, and shallow.I shut that down fast.Dropped photos of Mr. Futrell cheating—most recent one from just last month, while his wife was six months pregnant. Threw in records of his verbal abuse, how he tore her down, forced her to quit her job, then mocked her for staying home.Same move Steven pulled on me.By the end, Steven looked lik
The day results dropped, Maya and Mrs. Futrell were more stressed than me.We stood there, huddled around the screen, no one brave enough to click.Finally, I reached out, hands shaking, and opened the inbox.Empty.Only one way to read that—I'd failed.The letdown hit hard.Maybe I was too old after all.All that studying, all that hope during the exam... gone in one quiet second.I sighed, stepped back, and started gathering my books to toss them.But as I picked one up, a photo slipped out—me with that girl from the exam. My face was older, sure, but I was smiling like I still believed in myself.In my hand, another pic—me in my twenties, holding that award like I owned the world.Old me. Young me. Same fire.I set the book down and sat back at the desk.Okay, I didn't pass this time. So what? I'd just try again. What twenty-five-year-old Erica did, seventy-year-old Erica could too.I would chase my dreams relentlessly until death itself claimed me.Then I heard it—sc
Steven bolted like a coward. A few minutes later, Anton stormed in, looking just as wrecked and way older than he should.The second he spoke, he gave me that look. "Mom, how could you bully Dad?"I laughed. "Bully him? He walked in asking for it. And if you're here to run your mouth like he did, you're next."Guess that smack from before left an impression—Anton flinched and couldn't even look at me.He swung to Maya. "Cut it out. Kylie's back from her study tour soon. You really want her thinking her mom wrecked the family?"Maya's face faltered. When it came to Kylie, she always crumbled.I pulled her behind me, eyes locked on Anton. "She's my granddaughter. She'll get it—she won't turn out like you."Anton blinked, guilt flashing across his face. I didn't care. I grabbed the broom and ran him out.After the door slammed, Maya clutched my hand. "Erica, what if Kylie blames me? For not giving her a whole family—""She won't. She's yours. She's mine. She's not cold like Anton
After that day, Steven and Anton vanished from my life.Only way they got updates was through Maya—who ghosted them every time."They're so fake," she said. "Didn't care about us before, now they're obsessed."I glanced up from my book, smirking. "Yeah, 'cause they lost control. We're not their puppets anymore, and it's driving them nuts."We cracked up for a while before Maya suddenly went, "Erica, Mrs. Futrell quit her job. I don't have to clean her place anymore. But—she asked me to open a dessert shop with her."I froze, thinking about Mrs. Futrell—young, upbeat, full of fire.Something tightened in my chest.Being a housewife was never shameful. But it should've been her choice.And it clearly wasn't.We didn't talk about that. Just the dessert shop.Maya lit up—finally chasing a dream she'd clung to for decades. At almost fifty, she was glowing.The shop opened smooth, and her whole vibe shifted—lighter, freer.But old women like us? We're easy targets.Outta nowhere
Anton left.After we wrapped up, Maya and I headed out.Across the street, Steven and Anton were waiting. Neither looked happy.Steven reached out for my hand—stiff, awkward.I stared at it.It had been so long.Back when we were in love, he held my hand everywhere.Said he wanted the world to know I was his.But somewhere along the way, that stopped.One day, during a walk, he let go and said my hands were too rough.Never touched them again.And now, even as he took my hand, I saw it—that flicker of disgust.These hands?They got rough building the life he claimed to want.And he still found a way to blame me.I quietly pulled my hand away—and took Maya's instead. We walked right past him.Steven's face darkened, but for once, his voice was calm."Come home. Stop the drama. Do you really want this family to fall apart?"I stepped back, smiled."Oh, so you DO know the family falls apart without me? Funny. You and Anton only lived comfortably because Maya and I sac