Sara Ikari Rodriguez
The house felt too quiet. Too heavy. I sat on the floor of the dimly lit hall, rocking back and forth, trying to control the tremors in my body. My breathing was shallow, shaky—like I couldn’t get enough air.
Tears blurred my vision, and I gripped my knees tighter, digging my nails into my skin just to feel something other than this suffocating ache. Muffled sobs escaped my throat despite my best efforts to keep them in. The pain was too raw, too real.
My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. I kept thinking about how my life was supposed to be—full of happiness, love, a family of my own. I’d always dreamed of a happy marriage, a partner who would hold me through the rough times, someone who’d see me—just me—and not a bargaining chip or a burden. I can see my self stumbling
