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“What you can’t do is slap your wife and expect everyone to pretend nothing happened.”
“One more step, Andrew, and I’ll call the police. I’m not joking.”
Minutes later, the person she had called arrived—a lawyer named Diego who worked with an organization supporting women in unhealthy marriages. He approached gently.
“You don’t have to explain anything right now,” he told me. “We’re just going to get you somewhere safe.”
Andrew kept insisting we were “misunderstanding” him, but no one was listening anymore.
Laura helped me gather my things. As we stepped out the door, Andrew shouted after me:
“If you walk out, don’t come back!”
I paused, feeling something inside me settle into place.
“I’m not coming back,” I said quietly.
But at that exact moment, someone else appeared at the end of the walkway—Margaret, holding a cake wrapped in a cloth.
She looked confused, scanning each face for an explanation. When her eyes landed on my cheek, still faintly reddened, the cake slipped from her hands and fell onto the grass.
“What… what happened?” she whispered.
Andrew rushed toward her.
“Mom, it’s nothing—she’s exaggerating, she disrespects—”
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