The Moment I Stopped Shrinking
I didn’t cry. I didn’t argue.
I quietly paid for my half of the meal, stood up, and walked out—leaving Ryan alone with his fake celebration and untouched dessert.
He didn’t call that night.
Or the next.
By the third day, I understood something clearly: anyone who jokes about your pain isn’t confused—they’re comfortable minimizing it.
So I decided to return the favor.
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