I sat in the sterile examination room, staring down at my trembling hands. The fluorescent lights hummed above me, casting a cold, unforgiving glare over everything. For a fleeting moment, I considered lying. I wanted to just stand up, walk out the door, and pretend everything was perfectly fine.
After all, I had spent nearly half my life convincing myself that the suffocating walls of my marriage were normal. That the invisible weight I carried was just a part of being a good wife.
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