For years Amber had called me independent as though it meant I needed less love, less attention, less celebration.
Then she called me a shadow because she could not imagine a life beside hers that did not revolve around her light.
She was wrong about both things.
I had never needed to outshine her.
I had only needed enough room to stand where I already was.
I touched one of the earrings and felt the tiny stone beneath my fingertip.
Twenty-eight hundred dollars.
Saved slowly.
Chosen deliberately.
Paid for by me.
My husband could have bought a hundred pairs without noticing the charge.
That was precisely why these mattered.
He had walked into Bellamy’s with more money and influence than Amber could comprehend, but the most important thing he did that morning was not threaten her, rescue me, or pay for anything.
He stood beside me and asked what I wanted to do.
Then he let my answer matter.
For once, everyone else did too.
