I hated that I was hungry.
Hated that my body still needed things when my mind was screaming that I didn’t belong here.
But I did what Dominic asked—because sometimes survival meant choosing the lesser humiliation.
Before the waitress returned, my eyes caught the small stack of cards near the edge of the bar. The restaurant’s name. The address. Proof that this place existed without him. Proof that I could exist without him.
I slipped one into my bra, pressing it flat against my skin like a promise I wasn’t sure I’d ever keep.
If I came back, it would be on my own terms.
When the waitress returned, Dominic ordered first—confident, calm, like this place was familiar to him. Like the world made sense when he spoke to it.
When it was my turn, I didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll have an open tab,”
