My Escape
After high school, my parents barely blinked when I left home. “You’re on your own now,” they said flatly. I had earned a scholarship to a university in another city, and it felt like the first breath of freedom I’d ever taken.
It was Grandma who drove me to my dorm, carried boxes up three flights of stairs, and hugged me tight before she left. She believed in me when no one else did. I made a vow that day: I would never let her down.
Four years later, with a degree and a good job, I finally felt proud of myself. I even started sending Grandma little gifts or slipping money into her grocery jar. It felt good to give back.
Life seemed to fall into place when I met Henry. He was charming, attentive, and, for once, someone made me feel like I mattered. Against Grandma’s quiet warnings, I married him. She had looked him over with sharp eyes and said softly, “Something feels off about him, May. Be careful.” But I brushed it aside. I wanted to believe in love.
