“No, Diane. This is what happens when you spend your whole life trying to look better than everyone else. Eventually the seams give out.”
Somebody in the back actually snorted.
I picked up my son from his stroller and held him close.
“I came here hoping we could be a family,” I said. “Instead I learned exactly what I married into.”
I walked to the house, packed my bag, and buckled my baby into his car seat.
“Eventually the seams give out.”
Dylan followed me to the driveway.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” I answered. “Where I can finally breathe.”
“What about me?”
“Ask your mom to give you a lift,” I replied.
I started the engine, my hands steady for the first time all week.
I drove away without looking back.
“Where are you going?”
