Divorce, Design, and True Freedom

The scent of expensive perfume and cheap ambition hung heavy in our penthouse, a silent testament to David' s reign.

He paraded aspiring influencers through our home like trophies, their bright young faces a constant reminder of the life he flaunted.

I, Sarah Miller, the successful interior designer, was merely an accessory, observing from the periphery as he draped his arm around a blonde named Tiffany, asking me to help her pick a profile theme color.

My reflection in the glass showed a stillness, a silent defiance to his polished, empty smile.