When Greta is told to serve dinner and disappear during her husband’s big work meeting, something inside her shifts. After twelve years of silence, she’s ready to reclaim her voice—one carefully timed sentence at a time.The night before, Rett walked in, yanking off his tie like it had insulted him. “Greta, you didn’t forget about tomorrow, did you?
Just set the table, serve the food, and stay in our room. This is business.”
I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection. For years I had sacrificed for him—my design studio, my hometown, even my voice.
I had become furniture, useful but unseen. What Rett didn’t know was that I had been freelancing again. Quietly.
What happened next changed everything…
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