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I run a hand over my face and sigh. “Thank you, doctor.”

Brandon collapses on a chair while Novalie dabs at her eyes with a tissue.

Dad wants me married? Fine. I’ll get you a daughter-in-law.

Chapter 3

Istep out of the floor-length shower, wrap myself in a towel, and walk to the bath counter. This whole thing with Oliver and him accusing me of cheating stresses me out.

I swish away some steam from the clouded mirror. Hot showers are the best. The dark and puffy eyes from all the crying slowly disappear, and my skin seems to improve.

My mom got me all these different creams. She said that now that I’m close to 30, I should use creams with Retinols. Or was it Retinoids?

Either way, I’m still young, and I think wrinkles make us more authentic… I stretch my skin back, the wrinkles fading.

Older.

More cream can’t hurt, right?

I put on a second but thinner layer.

As I dry my blonde hair, running a comb through it to keep it straight, my eyes roam over my body.

Am I that unattractive that Oliver cheated on me?

It feels like yesterday when I saw him with a tall, slender woman. Stunning. Like one of those models on social media.

Mary does yoga in the mornings. Maybe I should join.

In response, my stomach rumbles.

Why do I even care? That asshole. He’s nobody I should want to impress. If a man doesn’t want me like I am, it’s his loss.

Three years ago, I would have forgiven Oliver without a second thought, my love for him blinding me to his faults. Standing here, gazing into the mirror, I see a different woman. The naive girl he married is gone. I know my worth and won’t accept anything less anymore. Ending my marriage is the first step, and as soon as he signs the damn papers, I control my life, not Oliver.

A knock sound on the door and I stop the hair dryer.

“I brought breakfast. How long do you need?” Mary, one of my best friends’ voice filters through the door.

“I will be right outside.”

“Okay.”

I finish drying my hair and throw on my robe before leaving the bathroom.

“Are you thinking about that asshole again?” Mary’s voice startles me. She lounges on the mattress in my room, her blue eyes locked on me and her wavy brown hair spilling over my pillows.

“No, I’m not thinking about him.” But even to my own ears, my voice sounds muffled. Please drop the subject. But this is Mary we’re talking about.

“Gem, I know that look.” Her brow furrows. “Although you got rid of him, you’re still not yourself.”

And she’s right. I am not myself. I’m a version of myself, but not the Gemma who loved every challenge thrown her way. The Gemma I used to be was always sketching, always dreaming of owning her own label. But that Gemma, well, she’s been on vacation since the second year of marriage.

“I’m fine.” I join her on the mattress.

“You can’t keep torturing yourself like this. That asshole isn’t worth another moment of your thoughts.”

I nod. She doesn’t understand that it’s not about what I deserve. It’s that after so many years together… I feel disposable. Like I was never more than a pretty accessory on his arm. Am I even pretty?

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