I thought Jason was my miracle — kind, stable, and good to my son, Jamie. When he proposed and told me to quit my job, I believed him. But once my paychecks stopped, his love did too. He grew cold, controlling, and distant.
One night, driving a borrowed taxi, I picked up Jason — holding hands with another woman. They didn’t notice me as they laughed about my mother’s inheritance and planned to announce their engagement that Saturday — our wedding anniversary.
So on Saturday, I dressed up, took Jamie, and walked into her parents’ barbecue. “Hi,” I said sweetly. “I’m Jason’s wife — and this is our son.” The silence said it all. I slipped off my ring, handed it to him, and whispered, “Happy anniversary.”
Three months later, I had peace, my son, and my dignity back. Jason lost everything — especially my silence.
