I’d loved had grown comfortable making decisions about my time, my money, my home, and my work without including me.
They believed that because I had always given willingly, I would never refuse.
They were wrong.
And when I walked back into my kitchen that morning, I opened the refrigerator and saw a small container of leftovers waiting for Frank.
I smiled, closed the door, and began making breakfast.
There was still enough food in my house to share.
But now, I was the one who decided where it went.
