In the middle of dinner, my husband laughed and told our friends that no one else wanted me, so he married me out of pity.

Maybe because something inside me had been cracking for years, and this was simply the sound of it finally breaking.

I smiled. Not a big smile. Just enough to relax the table.

Then I placed my napkin down and said, “Excuse me. I need the restroom.”

No one stopped me. Brandon barely glanced in my direction.

In the restroom, I stood at the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror under soft yellow lighting. My makeup was still flawless. My navy dress still fit exactly the way Brandon once said he liked. My wedding ring caught the light when I gripped the marble counter. I should have cried. I should have splashed water on my face, composed myself, and returned to survive another evening.