Chapter 6 Family Showdown I don't even remember how I got out of that house. All I had was one single, sharp conclusion echoing through my head- I must not be their daughter. And I had to find out the truth. It was the only explanation I could cling to-because otherwise, how could I live with the idea that my own parents were capable of being this cruel? The moment I got back to my apartment, I collapsed into bed. I didn't move until my phone started ringing. It was Ivanna. I didn't wait for her to ask anything-I just blurted out everything my parents had done. And, yes… I also told her about the one-night stand. I left out the proposal. Ivanna let out a scream so high-pitched it could probably shatter glass and murder all the plants in my apartment. "You had a one-night stand?! And you didn't FaceTime me live from the scene?!" I switched the phone to speaker and tossed it onto the couch, slumping back into the cushions with my eyes closed. Her voice kept going like fireworks: "Who is he? What mythological realm did this man descend from? Are you telling me you actually, finally, let Rhys go? Don't tell me-he looks like Michelangelo carved him, or…" She paused. I could picture her sitting up on her sofa, wrapped in a blanket, making that infamous, exaggerated gesture. "A wand of unnatural proportions?" "You are-so. Incredibly. Annoying," I groaned, dragging a pillow over my face. "You're dodging the topic," she snapped back instantly. Yes. Yes, I was. I never hid things from Ivanna. Not even the ugliest parts of my story. Not even… last night. I slept with a man whose last name I couldn't remember. Just to peel Rhys's residue off my skin-for a minute, an hour, a night-whatever it took to feel free again. Was it liberating? No. It was revenge, escape, a cocktail of both with a guilt chaser. But Ivanna wasn't here to judge me. She was here to douse the flames-even if it was only through the tiny speaker in my living room. "At least tell me this," she said suddenly, her voice lowering, softer. "Was he hot? Like, close-your-eyes-and-you-can-still-see-his-brow-bone hot?" "…Hot," I muttered into the pillow. "And when he touched you… did it feel like he knew you were something rare? Like you were a limited edition made just for him?" I clenched my jaw. Didn't answer. "Oh my god," she breathed. "You actually slept with someone who was worth it." I kept my eyes closed, and for some reason, that one sentence felt like a suture pulled gently over the tear in my chest. My parents' voices still echoed in my head-sharp, suffocating, like burnt toast you couldn't scrape off. The way they'd discarded me-so clinical, so composed. Like tossing out a baby bottle that had outlived its use. "Mira," her voice shifted again, quieter, steadier. "You can do anything. Screw up, break down, love the wrong person-it's all fine. But you can't carry all of this alone anymore." I said nothing. Just pulled my knees to my chest and pressed my face into them. "I'm here," she whispered. "Wherever you go. Whatever you do. I'm here." I didn't cry. I swear I didn't. I just clenched my jaw, shut my eyes tighter, and swallowed the words thank you like a pill I couldn't quite get down. I glanced at the time. I had to go to work. Now that my parents had made it clear I was disposable, my job was the one thing I couldn't afford to screw up. Of course, they believed I worked as a barista. They'd forbidden me from having a corporate job. In their minds, once married, I should be home full-time-a perfect little housewife. So I never told them what I really did. Dragging my exhausted body out the door, I headed to Ground & Pound-my workplace. The name? Chosen because the owner figured it had no real brand potential. Was it a sexy coffee shop? An underground MMA gym? Who knew? Who cared?