On the first day of our marriage, my husband threw a greasy dishcloth in my face and said, “From now on, you’re my family’s maid.” I smiled, left my wedding ring on the table, and walked out with my suitcase.

“We were upset.”

“So was I.”

“You didn’t have to destroy us publicly.”

“I posted evidence after your family publicly called me a criminal.”

Silence.

Then Carol said, “You took our money.”

“The money was given to us.”

“It was given because you were marrying my son.”

“And I did marry him.”

“For one day!”

“That was his choice as much as mine.”

“He made one mistake.”

I closed my eyes.

“No, Carol.”

“It was a rag.”

“It was never the rag.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means the rag was only the object.”

I paused.

“The problem was the belief behind it. The idea that the second I became Mason’s wife, I owed your household obedience. And everything your family did after I refused proved I made the right decision.”

Carol’s breathing changed.

“Give us back what belongs to us and we’ll delete everything.”