I replied, “I’m safe now.”
I blocked the number.
That evening, I ate dinner at my little table while rain tapped against the windows.
No one demanded my keys.
No shutoff notice waited beside my plate.
No one called me selfish for wanting control of what I had earned.
The apartment was smaller than my old bedroom, but the silence inside it belonged to me.
For the first time in my life, every payment I made was building a home I was allowed to keep.
