d smile from a colleague felt like a question I couldn't answer. I kept my head down, foc

ble in the corner of the bustling cafeteria, pushing food around my plate. She appr

riends. "I'm so glad I ran into you. I feel l

over the rim of her cup and directly onto the front of my white scrubs. It wasn't scald

r hand flying to her mouth in a perfect pi

lic power play, a way to humiliate me and mark her

feteria. He took in the scene-me, soaked in coff

, his eyes immediately goin

ng slightly. "I just... I accidentally sp

cident, Sarah," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He put a comforting h

umiliated. He hadn't asked if I was okay. He hadn't even looked at the stain on my s

where I was constantly looking over my shoulder, where the man

to a quiet, empty stairwell, my hands shaking as I pulled out my pho

cond ring. "Sarah-bea

for my composure to crumble. "Dad," I choked out, a

ions asked. "Whatever's wrong, we'll figure it out.

hone, took a deep breath, and felt a sliver of strength r

time. It was quiet and still. Moving with a grim sense of purpose, I packed the rest of my things. I didn't take an

next to the stack of wedding invitations. I did

iving towards the suburbs, towards the house I grew up in. It felt like a retreat, a failure. But as the miles passed, a

ay, the porch light was on, a welcoming beaco

ut of the car, my phone buzz

t is wrong with you? Don't be so drama

we had walked hand-in-hand through a park, and he'd told me he couldn't imagine his life without me. He said my integrity was

cisive tap, I bl

of the porch light, towards my father's open arms. I h