Naomi stood frozen in the hallway of her own home, her hand on the doororknob, her body swaying with exhaustion. It was 11:45 at night. She had been awake since 4:00 that morning. She had worked her hospital shift from 6:00 to 2:00, rushed to her second job at the call center from 3:00 to 7:00, grabbed a protein bar in her car before her evening shift at the restaurant from 7:30 to 10:00, and then driven across town to clean offices until 11:00.

Her feet throbbed in her worn sneakers. Her back achd from bending and lifting. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep. But she had made it home. She could shower, maybe eat something, sleep for 4 hours, and do it all again tomorrow. Then she heard his voice.

Dererick’s voice came through the bedroom door loud and carefree, the way it used to sound back when they first met. Back when she thought he was ambitious and hardworking. Back before she knew the truth. “Man, I’m telling you, I got it made,” Derek said. And Naomi could hear other male voices in the background. He had the phone on speaker. She works four jobs for hospital, call center, restaurant, and cleaning offices at night. The other voices laughed. And you just sit back? One of them asked.

Pretty much, Derek said. And Naomi heard him take a sip of something. Probably the expensive whiskey he bought while she drank tap water. She thinks she’s helping us get out of debt together. She thinks we’re a team. She thinks if she just works a little harder, we’ll be okay. That’s cold, man. another voice said. But he was laughing too. Cold.

Nah, that’s smart. Dererick replied. I made some bad bets. Sure. Got in over my head with some credit cards. But why should I suffer? I got myself a personal slave who thinks she’s being a good wife. Naomi’s hand slipped off the doororknob. Her purse fell from her shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud, but the voices inside the room didn’t notice.

“What about that girl, Amber?” someone asked. “She still around?” “Oh, yeah,” Derek said. And Naomi could hear the smile in his voice. Amber doesn’t know about the debt situation. She thinks I’m doing well. I take her to nice places by her nice things.

She’s fun, you know, not exhausted and complaining all the time like Naomi. You’re using Naomi’s money to date Amber. The voice sounded almost impressed. Where else would I get it? Derek laughed. Naomi works so hard. She doesn’t even check the bank statements anymore. She just deposits her checks and keeps going. I skim off the top for my personal expenses. She thinks every penny goes to bills.

She’s so tired she doesn’t even think straight anymore. Naomi backed away from the door. Her legs felt like water. Her chest felt like someone had reached inside and squeezed her heart until it stopped beating. She walked backward down the hallway, her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound. 3 years.

3 years she had been working herself into the ground. Three years since Dererick came to her with tears in his eyes, saying he had made mistakes, that he had gambling debts, that he needed her help just this once, that he would never let it happen again. She had believed him. She had loved him. She had promised to stand by him.

So, she took on a second job, then a third, then a fourth. She wore the same three outfits over and over because she couldn’t afford new clothes. She cut her own hair in the bathroom mirror. She gave up her gym membership, her book club, her Sunday brunches with friends. She stopped visiting her mother because she couldn’t afford the gas.

She ate ramen and peanut butter sandwiches while Dererick ordered takeout and he had been laughing at her. He had been calling her his slave. He had been using her money to date another woman. Naomi found herself in the kitchen staring at the sink full of dishes. Dererick’s dishes. The dishes she would wash before going to bed because he never did them.

The dishes that would be dirty again tomorrow because he would eat breakfast and leave the mess for her. Her hands started to shake. then her arms, then her whole body. She grabbed the edge of the counter to steady herself. The granite was cold under her fingers. She had picked this granite.

When they bought this house 5 years ago, she had spent weeks choosing the perfect color, charcoal gray with silver flex. She had been so happy. She had thought they were building a life together. But Dererick had been building a prison, and she had been too in love, too trusting, too exhausted to see the bars. Naomi looked around the kitchen. Everything in this house she had paid for.

The mortgage, the utilities, the furniture, the food, everything. Dererick’s debts ate every penny she made. And somehow there were always more debts. More bills. More emergencies. Except they weren’t emergencies. They were Amber. Naomi’s phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from the hospital asking if she could pick up an extra shift tomorrow. They were short staffed.

She had already worked six days this week. Her body was screaming for rest, but she had bills to pay. Dererick’s bills. No. The word formed in her mind like a crack of thunder. Oh, she wasn’t going to do this anymore. She didn’t know what she was going to do yet, but she knew with absolute certainty that she would never work another day to pay for Dererick’s lies.

She would never let him use her again. She would never be his slave. Naomi picked up her purse from where it had fallen in the hallway. She walked back to the bedroom door. Inside, Dererick was still talking, still laughing with his friends about something else now. Sports maybe, or cars. She didn’t care.

She didn’t open the door. Instead, she walked to the guest room, the room Dererick had turned into his office. The room she never entered because he said he needed privacy for work. Except he didn’t work. That was another lie. Naomi opened the door and turned on the light. The room was a mess.

Clothes on the floor, empty beer bottles on the desk, papers scattered everywhere. She walked to the desk and started opening drawers. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she knew she would find something. In the third drawer, under a stack of old magazines, she found a credit card statement. Then another, then another. The amounts made her sick.

15,000 on this one, 20,000 on that one, 8,000 on another. And the charges were recent. Jewelry stores, hotels, restaurants she had never been to. Ember. He was still spending money, still going into debt. While she worked four jobs, he was making it worse. Naomi took photos of everything with her phone. Every statement, every receipt, every piece of evidence she could find.

Her hands were steady now. Her mind was clear. The exhaustion had burned away, replaced by something cold and hard and focused. She had been asleep for 3 years. Now she was awake, and Dererick was going to regret the day he ever called her his slave. Naomi turned off the light and closed the door behind her.

She walked to the guest bathroom, the one Dererick never used, and locked herself inside. She sat on the edge of the tub and opened her phone. She looked at the photo she had just taken. Then she opened her banking app. The joint checking account showed a balance of $800. Her paycheck from yesterday.

Dererick had already transferred 600 to his personal account, the one she didn’t have access to, the one he said he needed for business. She looked at the account history. Transfers over and over. Her money going in, his transfers going out. Thousands and thousands of dollars. Years of her life stolen one paycheck at a time.

Naomi opened her email and started searching. She found the name of the divorce lawyer her friend Brenda had used two years ago. She wrote it down. Then she searched for financial adviserss, then for therapists, then for moving companies. She was making a list. She was making a plan. and she was going to take her life back.

In the bedroom, Dererick was still laughing, but his laughter had an expiration date, and Naomi was going to make sure he knew exactly what it felt like to lose everything. Naomi didn’t sleep that night. She lay in the guest room bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows move as cars passed outside.

Every hour, she heard Dererick stumble to the bathroom, heard the flush, heard him get back into their bed. The bed she had been sleeping in for 8 years, the bed she would never sleep in again. At 4 in the morning, her alarm went off. Time to get ready for her hospital shift. Naomi sat up and looked at her phone. The email to the divorce lawyer sat in her drafts folder.

She had written it at 2:00 in the morning, then deleted it, then written it again. She still hadn’t sent it. Some part of her was afraid that if she sent it, everything would become real. But it already was real. Dererick had made it real when he called her his slave. Naomi pressed send. Then she got dressed in her scrubs, put her hair in a ponytail, and walked quietly out of the house.

Dererick was snoring in the bedroom. He wouldn’t wake up until noon. He never did. The drive to the hospital took 30 minutes. Naomi had made this drive so many times she could do it in her sleep. She had done it in her sleep, actually. Last month, she had dozed off at a red light and woke up to someone honking behind her.

She parked in the employee lot and sat in her car for a moment. Through the windshield, she could see the hospital entrance, the automatic doors opening and closing as people went in and out. Sick people, worried people, tired people like her. Naomi worked as a medical billing specialist.

She sat at a computer for 8 hours processing insurance claims, talking to insurance companies, explaining to patients why their bills were so high. It wasn’t the job she had dreamed of when she went to college. She had wanted to be a physical therapist. She had been three semesters away from finishing her degree when she met Derek. He had been charming, confident. He told her she was beautiful. He told her she was smart.

He told her he wanted to build a life with her. So when he asked her to take a break from school to help him start his business, she said yes. Just for a year, he said just until the business got off the ground. That was 8 years ago. The business never happened. Derek always had an excuse. The market wasn’t right. He needed more capital.

his partner backed out. Someone stole his idea. Naomi stopped asking about it after the second year. By then, she was working full-time to support both of them. By then, Dererick had convinced her that her dreams could wait, that they needed to be practical, that she was being selfish for wanting to go back to school when they had bills to pay.

But they didn’t have bills. Not back then. The bills came later after Dererick started gambling, after he started losing. after he came home with tears in his eyes and promises on his lips. Naomi got out of the car and walked into the hospital. Her shift started in 10 minutes.

She scanned her badge at the employee entrance and took the elevator to the third floor. The billing department was quiet this early. Most people didn’t arrive until 8:00. But Naomi liked the early shift. It meant she could leave at 2:00 and make it to her second job on time. Her desk was in the corner next to a window that looked out over the parking lot. She had a photo of her and Dererick on her desk.

It was from their wedding day. They looked so happy. Dererick in his suit. Naomi in her white dress. Both of them smiling like they had won the lottery. Naomi picked up the photo and looked at it. She didn’t recognize the woman in the picture. That woman had hope. That woman believed in love. That woman thought marriage meant partnership.

She opened her desk drawer and put the photo inside face down. Then she turned on her computer and got to work. The morning passed in a blur of phone calls and claim forms. At 10:00, her coworker Brenda stopped by with coffee. “You look terrible,” Brenda said, setting the cup on Naomi’s desk. “Worse than usual, I mean.

” Naomi tried to smile. “Thanks. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I’m serious.” Brenda pulled up a chair and sat down. She was in her 50s, divorced with two grown kids. She had been working at the hospital for 20 years. You’re going to kill yourself with all these jobs. When’s the last time you had a day off? I don’t know. January. Naomi, it’s October. I know what month it is.

Brenda leaned forward. Honey, I’m going to say this because I care about you. That man isn’t worth it. Whatever debt he got you into, it’s not your responsibility to fix. He’s my husband. He’s a grown man who should be taking care of his own problems. Brenda paused. Does he even work? Naomi didn’t answer.

She couldn’t answer because the truth was too humiliating. No, Derek didn’t work. He hadn’t worked in 3 years. He said he was looking for the right opportunity. He said he was too qualified for entry-level positions. He said he was networking, but what he really did was sleep until noon, play video games, go to the gym, and spend Naomi’s money on another woman. I emailed your lawyer, Naomi said quietly.

This morning, Brenda’s eyes went wide. You did. I overheard Derek last night talking to his friends about me. Naomi’s throat tightened. He called me his personal slave. Brenda didn’t say anything. She just reached across the desk and squeezed Naomi’s hand. “I’m done,” Naomi said. “I’m so done. I just need to figure out how to do this without ending up on the street.

” “Patricia is a good lawyer. She helped me get everything I was entitled to. More than I thought I would get.” Brenda squeezed her hand again. You’re going to be okay. Better than okay. I don’t feel okay. You will eventually. Naomi nodded, but she wasn’t sure she believed it.

She had been not okay for so long, she couldn’t remember what okay felt like. The rest of the shift dragged. Every time Naomi looked at the clock, only 5 minutes had passed. She processed claims mechanically, her mind somewhere else, planning, calculating, trying to figure out how she was going to survive the next few months. At 2:00, she clocked out and walked to her car.

She had 45 minutes to get across town to the call center. She stopped at a drive-thru and ordered a value meal, eating it in her car at red lights. The call center job was mind-numbing. She sat in a cubicle with a headset, answering calls from angry customers who wanted to know why their internet wasn’t working or why their bill was so high. Everyone was angry.

Everyone yelled. Naomi spent 4 hours apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. At 7:00, she clocked out and drove to the restaurant. This was the job she hated most. She was a server at a chain restaurant, the kind with too many menu options and appetizers that all tasted the same.

She smiled at customers, took orders, brought food, cleaned up spills. Her feet always hurt after this shift. Tonight was no different. A family of five left her a $3 tip on a $90 bill. A man at table 7 sent his steak back three times. A woman at table 12 asked for 17 different modifications to her salad and then complained that it didn’t taste right. At 10, Naomi’s shift ended. She changed out of her work clothes in the employee bathroom and drove to her fourth job.

The office building was downtown 12 floors of insurance companies and law firms. Naomi had the key to get in. She cleaned three floors every night, vacuuming, emptying trash, wiping down desks and conference tables. The building was empty except for the security guard at the front desk. He waved at her when she came in.

She waved back. Naomi started on the 10th floor and worked her way down. She vacuumed in straight lines the way she always did. She emptied trash cans that were barely full. She wiped down desks where people left family photos and motivational posters. All these people had normal lives. They worked one job. They went home at 5:00. They had weekends.

Naomi couldn’t remember the last time she had a weekend. At 11:30, she finished and drove home. The house was dark except for the glow of the TV in the living room. Dererick had fallen asleep on the couch. An empty pizza box sat on the coffee table. $30 pizza. Naomi had eaten a $4 value meal for lunch.

She walked past him to the guest room. Her phone buzzed. An email from Patricia, the lawyer. I received your message. I have availability tomorrow at 9:00 if you can make it. We should talk as soon as possible. Naomi looked at her schedule. She was supposed to work the hospital shift from 6:00 to 2:00, but she had to do this. She had to start somewhere.

She emailed back, “I’ll be there.” Then she set her alarm for 5:00 and lay down on the guest room bed. She was still in her work clothes. She was too tired to change. In the living room, Dererick snored. Naomi closed her eyes and thought about the woman in the wedding photo. The woman who had believed in happy endings. That woman was gone.

But maybe, just maybe, a stronger woman was taking her place. Naomi woke up at 5:00 and called in sick to the hospital for the first time in 18 months. The guilt sat in her stomach like a rock, but she pushed it down. She had to do this. She had to put herself first for once.

She showered quickly and quietly, then dressed in the only professional outfit she owned that still fit, a black blazer and pants that she had bought for a job interview years ago. She checked herself in the mirror. She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn’t hide, but she looked determined. Dererick was still asleep when she left the house.

Patricia’s office was in a modern building near downtown. Naomi sat in the waiting room, her hands folded in her lap, trying not to think about all the things she should be doing instead. The hospital shift she had abandoned, the bills coming due, the debt that never seemed to shrink. Naomi, a woman in her 40s, stepped into the waiting room.

She had short gray hair and kind eyes. I’m Patricia. Come on back. Naomi followed her to a small office with a desk and two chairs. The walls were covered with diplomas and certificates. There was a photo of Patricia with two teenagers both smiling. So, Patricia said, settling into her chair. Tell me what’s going on. Naomi told her everything.

the four jobs, the debt that Dererick had created, the overheard conversation, the mistress, the money he had been stealing. Her voice shook at first but grew steadier as she talked. Patricia listened without interrupting. She took notes on a legal pad. When Naomi finished, Patricia set down her pen and looked at her directly. First thing, Patricia said, “None of this is your fault.

You understand that?” Naomi nodded, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. Second thing, you’re in a better position than you think. Did Derek tell you these were joint debts? He said we needed to pay them together, that we were a team, but did you sign anything? Credit card applications, loan documents, anything like that? Naomi thought back. No.

He said he would handle the paperwork. Patricia smiled. Then legally, those debts are his, not yours. Gambling debts especially. If you can prove you didn’t consent to them, you’re not responsible. Really? Really? And if he’s been taking money from joint accounts without your knowledge to support an affair, that’s financial infidelity. We can use that in the divorce. Divorce.

The word hung in the air. Naomi had been married for 8 years. She had promised forever, but forever couldn’t include being someone’s slave. What do I do now? Naomi asked. Patricia pulled out a checklist. First, you separate your finances. Open a new bank account in your name only. Start depositing your paychecks there. Don’t tell Derek. Won’t he notice? Probably.

But by the time he does, you’ll be ready. Patricia continued. Second, you gather evidence. Every text message, every receipt, every bank statement. Document everything. Times, dates, amounts. The more evidence you have, the better. I took photos last night of credit card statements I found in his office. Good. Keep doing that.

But be careful. Don’t let him catch you. What if he gets angry? What if he tries to stop me? Patricia’s expression turned serious. Do you feel safe in your home? Naomi thought about it. Dererick had never hit her. He had never threatened her. But he had manipulated her. He had lied to her. He had used her.

I don’t know, she admitted. If at any point you feel unsafe, you leave. You go to a friend’s house, a hotel, anywhere. Your safety is more important than anything else. Patricia wrote something on a business card and handed it to Naomi. This is my cell number. You can call me anytime. Naomi took the card.

Her hand was shaking again. How long will this take? She asked. Depends on how cooperative Dererick is. If he fights, it could take months. If he agrees to settle, could be faster. But Naomi, you need to prepare yourself. This is going to be hard. He’s going to be angry. He’s going to try to manipulate you. He might promise to change. He might cry.

He might blame you. I know. Do you? Because from what you’ve told me, you’ve spent 3 years believing his lies. It’s easy to fall back into old patterns when someone you love is hurting. I don’t love him anymore. Naomi said and realized it was true. I don’t think I have for a long time. Patricia nodded. Then you’re already halfway there.

The meeting lasted an hour. When Naomi left, she had a plan. Stepbystep instructions on how to take her life back. It felt overwhelming, but it also felt possible. She sat in her car and opened her banking app. She found the nearest branch and drove there. 20 minutes later, she had a new checking account and savings account in her name only. She transferred the $800 from the joint account into her new account.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Then she drove to the call center for her afternoon shift. The day passed in a blur. Angry customers, complicated problems, the same scripts over and over. But Naomi’s mind was somewhere else. She was making lists, things to do, things to gather, places she could stay if she needed to leave quickly. At 7:00, she went to the restaurant. The dinner rush was brutal.

Every table was full. The kitchen was backed up. Orders were coming out wrong. Naomi ran back and forth, apologizing, fixing mistakes that weren’t her fault, smiling even though her feet were screaming. At 10, she clocked out. She should have gone to the cleaning job, but she couldn’t. Her body had hit its limit.

She texted her supervisor that she had a family emergency and couldn’t make it tonight. Then she drove home. Dererick’s car was in the driveway. The house was lit up. Naomi sat in her car for a long moment, gathering her courage. She had to go inside. She had to pretend everything was normal. She couldn’t let Dererick know that anything had changed.

She put on her mask and walked through the front door. Dererick was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich. He looked up when she came in. Hey babe,” he said, smiling. “You’re home early. I got off early from the cleaning job.” Naomi lied. They didn’t need me tonight. You want a sandwich? She almost laughed.

He was offering her a sandwich made with groceries she had bought with money she had earned. How generous. No thanks. I ate at the restaurant. Okay. He took a bite of his sandwich. Hey, I was thinking maybe this weekend we could do something like a date night. We haven’t done that in a while because we can’t afford it.

Naomi thought because I’m working 7 days a week to pay your debts. Sure, she said. That sounds nice. Derek smiled. Great. I’ll make reservations somewhere. My treat? Your treat? With my money. Naomi excused herself and went to the guest room. She sat on the bed and pulled out her phone. She opened her email and started writing.

A message to her mother explaining everything. A message to Brenda thanking her for the lawyer referral. A message to the hospital requesting to drop down to part-time hours. She was taking steps, small steps, but steps nonetheless. At midnight, Derek knocked on the guest room door. “You coming to bed?” he asked. “I’m really tired.

I think I’ll just sleep here. You’ve been sleeping in here a lot lately. The bed is better for my back.” Naomi lied. All the physical work, you know. Okay. He paused. Love you. The words felt like knives. How dare he say that to her. How dare he pretend. Love you too, she said because she had to.

Because she wasn’t ready yet. But soon she would be ready. And then Dererick would learn what it meant to lose everything. 3 days later Naomi was cleaning Dererick’s car. He had asked her to do it. Said it was disgusting. Said he would pay her $50. $50 from her own money given back to her as payment for more work.

But she said yes because she needed an excuse to search the car. It was Sunday afternoon. Dererick was at the gym. He went every day spending two hours working out, another hour in the steam room. Time he could have spent working. Time he could have spent helping her. Naomi started with the trunk.

Fast food bags, empty water bottles, gym clothes that smelled like they hadn’t been washed in weeks. She threw it all away and moved to the back seat. More trash. A receipt from a jewelry store dated 2 weeks ago. $450 for a bracelet. Naomi took a photo of the receipt and put it back where she found it. The front seat was worse.

The center console was full of gum wrappers and parking stubs. The glove compartment had old insurance cards and a bottle of cologne. Expensive cologne. Naomi had never smelled it on Derek at home. She was about to close the glove compartment when she saw it. A phone, not Dererick’s iPhone. This was an Android and older model tucked under the insurance papers. Naomi picked it up. The screen lit up.

No password, just a home screen with a few apps. She opened the messages. The most recent conversation was with A. And the messages made Naomi’s stomach turn. A miss you already, baby. Derek, miss you, too. Counting down until Friday. Hey, what time can you get away? Derek, noon.

I’ll tell her I have a job interview. Hey, oh, you’re terrible. What if she actually believes you? Derek, she always does. She’s too tired to question anything. Hey, poor thing. Working all those jobs. Derek, I know, right? But it keeps her busy and it keeps money coming in. Hey, you’re going to hell.

Derek, worth it if I get to see you. Naomi scrolled up. Weeks of messages, months. They had been together for 2 years, just like the earlier texts indicated. They met at a bar. Derek told Amber he was an entrepreneur. He told her he was successful. He told her he was separated from his wife. All lies, but Amber believed them. Naomi kept scrolling. She found photos.

Derek and Amber at restaurants. Derek and Amber at the beach. Derek and Amber in hotel rooms. In some photos, Amber was wearing jewelry, expensive jewelry, the same jewelry from the receipts Naomi had found. Amber was young, mid20s maybe. She had long red hair and a bright smile. She looked happy.

She looked like someone who thought her life was going exactly the way it should. She had no idea she was dating a liar who funded their relationship with his wife’s money. Naomi took photos of everything, every message, every photo, every piece of evidence. Then she put the phone back exactly where she found it and continued cleaning the car.

Her hands were shaking, her chest felt tight, but she kept working. She vacuumed the seats. She wiped down the dashboard. She cleaned the windows. By the time Dererick got home from the gym, the car looked brand new. “Wow,” he said, walking around it. “This looks amazing.” “Thanks, babe.” “No problem,” Naomi said. He pulled out his wallet and handed her two 20s in a 10. “Here, for all your hard work.

” Naomi took the money. Her money given back to her like a tip. “Thanks,” she said. Dererick went inside to shower. Naomi sat in her own car and looked at the photos on her phone. Message after message of Dererick and Amber planning their future. A future that included Naomi’s money but not Naomi.

She thought about confronting him, walking into the house and throwing the phone at him, screaming, demanding answers. But that wasn’t the plan. Patricia had been clear. Gather evidence, separate finances, make a strategy, then strike. Naomi opened her new banking app. She had been depositing her paychecks into her new account for 3 days now. She had $1,100 saved.

It wasn’t much, but it was growing. She had also made an appointment to see a therapist. First session was tomorrow. Patricia had recommended her, a woman who specialized in financial abuse and manipulation. Financial abuse. That’s what this was. Naomi had looked it up. The patterns were all there. Derek controlling the money.

Dererick creating debt. Dererick isolating Naomi through exhaustion. Dererick making her believe she was responsible for his problems. Classic abuse and Naomi had fallen for it completely. Her phone buzz. A text from Derek. What do you want for dinner? I’m thinking pizza again.

Pizza he would order with her money while she ate leftovers. Naomi texted back. Whatever you want. Then she opened her photos and looked at the pictures from Dererick’s secret phone again. She studied Amber’s face. The woman looked so happy, so carefree.

Did Amber know about the debt? Did she know Dererick didn’t work? Did she know he had a wife at home working herself to death? Oh, Amber thought Dererick was successful. Amber thought Dererick had money. Amber thought she had won some kind of prize. Naomi felt a flicker of something like pity. Amber was being lied to just as much as Naomi had been. Maybe not in the same way, but lied to nonetheless.

But Naomi wasn’t going to warn her, wasn’t going to reach out, wasn’t going to help. Amber had made her choices. She had chosen to be with a man who said he was separated. She had chosen to accept expensive gifts without questioning where the money came from. She had chosen to laugh about Naomi’s exhaustion. And soon, Amber would face the consequences of those choices.

Because when Naomi left, when she stopped paying Derrick’s bills, the money would dry up, the nice dinners would stop, the jewelry would stop, and Dererick would have to tell Amber the truth, that he was broke, that he was in debt, that he had been using his wife to fund their relationship. Naomi wondered how long Amber would stick around after that. Not long, she suspected.

Dererick came back outside, his hair wet from the shower. Pizza should be here in 30 minutes. You want to watch a movie? Sure, Naomi said. She got out of her car and followed him inside. They sat on the couch together. Dererick picked some action movie. Naomi pretended to watch, but she wasn’t paying attention.

She was thinking about her plan, about the evidence she had gathered, about the new bank account, about the therapist appointment tomorrow. She was thinking about freedom. Halfway through the movie, Dererick put his arm around her. The gesture felt wrong, invasive, like he had no right to touch her anymore. But Naomi didn’t pull away. Not yet. Soon, she told herself. Very soon, when the pizza arrived, Dererick paid with cash.

Naomi’s cash from the joint account he still had access to. She ate one slice. Dererick ate six. At 11:00, Naomi said she was tired and went to the guest room. She locked the door and sat on the bed with her phone. She looked at the photos from Dererick’s secret phone one more time. Then she sent them all to Patricia with a message. More evidence.

Found his phone. He’s been planning meetups with her during times he told me he had job interviews. Patricia responded immediately. This is excellent. Keep it safe. Don’t confront him yet. Naomi set her phone down and lay back on the bed. She stared at the ceiling and listened to the TV in the living room.

Dererick was still watching movies, still living his comfortable life, but his time was running out and he had no idea the storm that was coming. The therapist’s office smelled like lavender. Soft music played from hidden speakers. The woman behind the desk was in her 50s with kind eyes and a calm voice. I’m Dr. Helen, she said. Patricia told me a little bit about your situation, but I’d like to hear it from you.

Naomi had thought she would feel embarrassed talking to a stranger about her marriage, but instead she felt relief. This was someone who would listen without judgment, someone who wouldn’t tell her she was overreacting or being dramatic. She told Dr. Helen everything, not just the facts, but how she felt, the exhaustion, the confusion, the way Dererick made her feel like she was never doing enough.

the way he twisted every conversation to make her feel guilty. Dr. Helen listened. She took notes. When Naomi finished, she set down her pen. “What you’re describing is called financial abuse.” Dr. Helen said, “It’s a form of control where one partner uses money to manipulate and dominate the other. Often the victim doesn’t realize what’s happening because it develops slowly over time. That’s exactly what happened,” Naomi said.

At first, it was just helping him with one debt, then another. Then it became normal for me to work and him not two. And he isolated you through exhaustion. When you’re working four jobs, you don’t have time to think clearly. You don’t have time to question what’s happening. You’re too tired to see the manipulation. Naomi felt tears building.

I feel so stupid. How did I let this happen? You’re not stupid. You’re human. You loved him. You trusted him. Those aren’t weaknesses. But Dererick exploited those qualities. That’s on him, not you. The session lasted an hour. When it ended, Naomi felt lighter. Dr. Helen gave her homework. Write down every time Derek made her feel guilty or responsible for his problems.

Document the patterns. Naomi drove straight from the therapist’s office to the hospital for her shift. She was down to part-time now, 3 days a week instead of six. The hospital had been understanding. Her supervisor said she looked like she needed a break. Brenda caught her at lunch. They sat in the cafeteria eating salads from the vending machine.

You look better, Brenda said. Less like a zombie. Naomi laughed. Thanks. I think Patricia told me you’re doing everything right. Building your case, getting evidence. I found his secret phone. He’s been using it to communicate with his mistress. Brenda’s eyes widened. Are you serious? Completely serious.

Two years of messages, photos, plans to meet up, all while I was working. That man deserves everything that’s coming to him. I just want to be free, Naomi said. I don’t care about revenge. I just want my life back. But that wasn’t entirely true. She did want Dererick to face consequences. She wanted him to understand what he had done.

She wanted him to feel even a fraction of the pain she had felt. That evening, Naomi skipped her restaurant shift. She had quit that job yesterday. Now she was down to two jobs, part-time at the hospital and part-time at the call center. She still did the cleaning job two nights a week for extra money. With her free time, she went to the public library.

She had borrowed a laptop from work and set herself up in a quiet corner. Then she got to work. She created a spreadsheet. Column one, Derek’s debts. She listed every credit card, every loan, every bill she had been paying. Next to each one, she listed the balance and the monthly payment. The total made her sick, $97,000. Column two, evidence. She listed every piece of documentation she had.

Bank statements showing transfers from joint accounts to Dererick’s personal account, receipts for jewelry and hotels, text messages with Amber, photos of them together. Column 3, timeline. When each debt was created, when Dererick stopped working, when he told her he needed help, when she took on the second job, the third, the fourth, the pattern was clear.

Dererick had created these debts himself through gambling and poor choices. He had never intended to pay them back. He had always planned to use Naomi, and it had worked for 3 years. Naomi saved the spreadsheet to a USB drive. She made three copies and hid them in different places. One in her car, one in her locker at the hospital, one in a safety deposit box she had opened at her new bank.

She wasn’t taking any chances. If Dererick found out what she was planning, he might try to destroy evidence. She had to be ready. Next, she opened a new document and started writing. A list of things she needed to do before she could leave. Save three months of expenses. Find an apartment. Change all her passwords. Tell her mother. Serve divorce papers.

file a police report about financial fraud if possible. She was on step one. Her new bank account had $2,200. Her monthly expenses once she stopped paying Derrick’s debts would be about $2,000. She needed 6,000 saved before she could leave safely.

At her current rate, she could save about 800 a week now that she had quit two jobs and was depositing everything in her own account. That meant she needed about five more weeks. Five more weeks of pretending. Five more weeks of living with Derek. Five more weeks of wearing the mask. She could do it. She had survived 3 years. She could survive five more weeks. Naomi worked at the library until it closed at 9:00. Then she drove to the office building for her cleaning shift.

The work was mindless, which she appreciated. It gave her time to think. She had called her mother yesterday and told her everything. Her mother had cried. She had said she knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to pry. She said Naomi could come stay with her anytime. But Naomi didn’t want to run to her mother.

She wanted her own place, her own space, a fresh start that was completely hers. At 11:00, she finished cleaning and drove home. Dererick was asleep on the couch again. Naomi walked past him to the guest room. Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. Hi, is this Naomi? This is Amber. We need to talk. Naomi’s heart stopped. She stared at the message. Read it again.

How did Amber get her number? Another text came through. Dererick gave me your number a long time ago. In case of emergency, but I just found out he’s still married. You told me you were separated. Is that true? Naomi’s hands shook. She didn’t know how to respond.

Part of her wanted to tell Amber everything, to tell her exactly what kind of man Dererick was, to warn her, but another part of her remembered the text messages. Amber laughing about Naomi’s exhaustion. Amber accepting expensive gifts without question. Amber choosing to believe Dererick’s lies. Naomi typed back, “We’re not separated. We’re very much married and you’re welcome to him.

” She hit send before she could change her mind. Three dots appeared immediately. Ember was typing. I had no idea. I swear. He told me you were getting divorced. He told me it was just a matter of paperwork. Naomi typed. He lied. He’s been lying to both of us. But I’m done being lied to. If you want to stay with him, that’s your choice.

But know that he has no money. He has no job. And he has $97,000 in debt that I’ve been paying off. When I leave, that debt becomes his problem. Good luck. She turned off her phone and put it in her drawer. She didn’t want to talk to Amber. Didn’t want to hear her excuses or her shock or her apologies. Amber was Dererick’s problem now.

And in 5 weeks, Dererick would be nobody’s problem but his own. Amber didn’t text again. But Dererick started acting strange. He was on his phone constantly typing and deleting messages. He kept asking Naomi about her schedule. He wanted to know when she would be home. She had plans. If anything had changed, Naomi knew Amber must have confronted him.

And now Dererick was scared. It was week four of Naomi’s plan. She had $5,400 saved, almost enough to leave. She had found an apartment, a small one-bedroom across town. The landlord was holding it for her. She just needed to come up with first month last month, and deposit, 5,000 total. She was almost there.

Naomi came home from her hospital shift on a Wednesday afternoon. Dererick’s car was in the driveway. Unusual. He was usually at the gym. She walked inside and found him sitting at the kitchen table. His laptop was open in front of him. His face was pale. We need to talk, he said.

Naomi’s heart started racing, but she kept her voice calm. About what? Did you close our joint account? I moved my money to a personal account. That’s all. Why? Because I wanted control over my own paychecks. Derek stood up. You can’t do that. We have bills to pay. You have bills to pay. Naomi corrected. Those are your debts, not mine.

His face flushed red. We’re married. Your money is our money. Then where’s your money? Naomi asked. You haven’t worked in three years. I’ve been supporting you. I’ve been paying your debts and you’ve been spending my money on your mistress. Derek went very still. What are you talking about? Amber? I know all about Amber. Who told you? His voice was sharp. Does it matter? I know.

I have proof. Text messages, photos, receipts, 2 years of evidence. Dererick sat back down. His hands were shaking. It’s not what you think. Really? What is it then? Because from where I’m standing, you convinced me to work four jobs to pay off your gambling debts while you sat home and spent my money on another woman.

What part of that am I misunderstanding? I was going to end it with her. I swear it didn’t mean anything. You’re right. It didn’t mean anything because I’m done. Naomi pulled an envelope from her purse and placed it on the table. These are divorce papers. You’ve been served. Dererick stared at the envelope like it might explode. You can’t be serious. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.

Naomi, please let me explain. Let me fix this. You can’t fix this. You broke us 3 years ago when you decided I was worth more as a worker than as a wife. I never said that. You said it to your friends. I heard you. You called me your personal slave. Derek’s face went white. You heard that? I heard everything. and I’m done being your slave.

” Naomi turned and walked to the guest room. She had already packed her essential belongings. One suitcase. That’s all she needed for now. She could get the rest later with a police escort if necessary. Derek followed her. Where are you going? Somewhere you’re not. This is my house, too. Actually, it’s not. Your name isn’t on the mortgage. Mine is.

I’ve been paying it for 5 years. According to my lawyer, you have 30 days to move out. You can’t kick me out of my own home. It’s not your home. It never was. You just lived here while I paid all the bills. Naomi grabbed her suitcase and walked to the front door. Dererick grabbed her arm. Don’t touch me, she said, her voice cold. He let go immediately. Naomi, please don’t do this. I love you. You don’t love me.

You love my paycheck. But that’s over now. She walked out the door and loaded her suitcase into her car. Dererick stood in the doorway watching. He looked lost, like he couldn’t understand how his perfect setup had fallen apart. Naomi got in her car and drove away. She drove to her mother’s house and sat in the driveway for a long moment.

Then she called Patricia. “It’s done,” she said. “I served him. I left.” “How do you feel?” terrified, relieved, free. Naomi laughed. It sounded slightly hysterical. Is that normal? Completely normal. Are you safe? I’m at my mother’s house. Good. Stay there tonight. Tomorrow we’ll talk about next steps. But Naomi, you did it. The hardest part is over.

Naomi hung up and sat in the car watching her mother’s house. The lights were on inside. Her mother was probably making dinner, living a normal life, a life Naomi was about to reenter. Her phone buzzed. Multiple texts from Derek. Please come home. We can work this out. I’ll change. I’ll get a job. I’ll pay you back. Naomi blocked his number. Then she got out of the car and walked to her mother’s door.

Her mother answered before she could knock. She took one look at Naomi’s face and pulled her into a hug. “Come inside, baby,” she said. “You’re safe now.” Naomi started crying then. Not sad tears, not angry tears, relief tears. She had done it. She had left. She had taken the first step toward a new life.

And there was no going back. The apartment was small but bright. One bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen barely big enough for one person, but it was hers. All hers. Naomi signed the lease on a Thursday. She moved in on Friday with help from her mother and Brenda. She didn’t have much. The suitcase she had packed, some kitchen supplies her mother donated, a mattress she bought on sale, a few dishes from the thrift store, but it was enough. She set up her laptop on the kitchen counter and checked her email. Patricia had sent an update. Dererick

had 30 days to respond to the divorce papers. If he didn’t respond, the divorce would go through automatically. If he did respond, they would negotiate terms. Either way, Naomi was getting divorced. There was another email from the hospital. They wanted to know if she was interested in going full-time again.

One of the managers had been impressed with her work. They were offering her a position in administration, better pay, normal hours, benefits. Naomi stared at the email. a real job, a career, something she had given up on 3 years ago when Derek convinced her they needed to focus on his dreams instead of hers. She replied, “Yes, I’m very interested.

When can we discuss details?” Then she opened her banking app. $5,800. She had spent $3,000 on the apartment. That left $2,800. Enough for a couple months of expenses if she was careful. But she wasn’t scared. For the first time in 3 years, she could see a path forward. Her phone rang. A known number. She answered cautiously. Hello.

Is this Naomi Fletcher? A man’s voice. Yes. This is calling from First National Bank. I’m trying to reach Derek Fletcher regarding his account. The number we have on file isn’t working. Do you have a way to reach him? Derek and I are separated. I don’t have his current number. Oh, I see. Well, his account is severely overdrawn. We need to discuss payment options. That’s his account, not mine.

But you’re his wife. Aren’t you responsible for his debts? No. We’re getting divorced. And those debts were incurred without my knowledge or consent. You’ll need to work out payment with Derek directly. She hung up before the man could respond. Over the next week, there were more calls.

Credit card companies, loan officers, collection agencies, all looking for Derek, all trying to find someone to pay his debts. Naomi blocked every number. She also received an email from Amber. She almost deleted it without reading, but curiosity got the better of her. I’m sorry. I didn’t know the truth about Derek. I broke up with him when I found out he lied about everything. He’s been calling me non-stop asking for money. I thought you should know he’s desperate.

Be careful. Naomi didn’t respond, but she forwarded the email to Patricia with a note. More evidence of his character. 2 weeks after Naomi left, Dererick showed up at her apartment. She was making dinner when she heard the knock. She looked through the peepphole and saw him standing there. You looked terrible.

Unshaven, wearing clothes that hadn’t been washed, dark circles under his eyes. She opened the door but left the chain on. What do you want? We need to talk. Derek said, “We have nothing to talk about. Everything goes through my lawyer now. I can’t afford a lawyer. I can’t afford anything. The creditors are calling constantly.

They want $50,000 immediately or they’re taking legal action. That’s your problem. It’s both our problem. We’re still married. Not for long. And those are your debts, not mine. Dererick ran his hand through his hair. He looked panicked. Naomi, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need help. You need help? That’s rich. I worked four jobs for 3 years trying to help you, and you called me your slave. I didn’t mean it like that.

How did you mean it then? Derek didn’t answer. That’s what I thought. Naomi said, “Goodbye, Derek.” She closed the door. He knocked again. Naomi. Naomi, please. I’m going to lose the house. The house is in my name. My lawyer is handling it. You have 2 weeks to move out or you’ll be evicted. Where am I supposed to go? I don’t know. Figure it out. You’re good at making other people solve your problems.

Time to solve your own. She walked away from the door. Dererick kept knocking for 10 more minutes. Then he finally left. Naomi sat on her mattress and realized she was shaking. Not from fear, from anger. How dare he show up here? How dare he ask for her help after everything? But she also felt proud. She had held her ground.

She hadn’t let him manipulate her. She hadn’t fallen for his soba story. She was done being his solution. 3 weeks after Naomi left, Patricia called with an update. Dererick responded to the divorce papers. She said, “He’s requesting spousal support.” Naomi laughed. She couldn’t help it. Are you serious? Completely serious. He’s claiming that he gave up his career to support your career. He says you owe him support while he gets back on his feet.

That’s insane. I have documentation proving the opposite. I know, and we’ll fight it, but it tells me he’s desperate. His debts are crushing him, and he’s looking for any way to get money. Will he get support? Not a chance. Not with the evidence we have. But it might delay the divorce a bit while we sort through his claims. How long? A few months maybe.

But Naomi, the end result won’t change. You’re getting divorced. You’re getting the house. And you’re not responsible for his debts. After she hung up, Naomi sat in her apartment and thought about Derek. She wondered where he was living, if he had found a job, if Amber had taken him back. She wondered if he understood yet what he had lost. Probably not.

Men like Derek never did. But that didn’t matter anymore. Derek was his own problem now. And Naomi had better things to think about. Like her interview tomorrow for the full-time position at the hospital. Like the online course she had enrolled in to finish her physical therapy degree. Like the life she was building slowly, carefully just for herself.

6 months after leaving Derek, Naomi barely recognized her own life. She woke up at 7:00 instead of 4:00. She made coffee in her small kitchen and drank it slowly, sitting on her single chair and looking out the window. The view wasn’t much, just the parking lot and another apartment building, but it was peaceful.

She worked one job now, the full-time position at the hospital and administration, 8 to 5 Monday through Friday. She had weekends, actual weekends where she didn’t work. It felt strange at first, almost wrong. After 3 years of constant work, her body didn’t know how to rest. She would wake up on Saturday morning with anxiety, feeling like she should be somewhere doing something, earning money. But slowly, she was learning to relax.

She was also learning who she was without Derek. That was harder than she expected. For 8 years, she had defined herself in relation to him. Dererick’s wife, Dererick’s supporter, Dererick’s solution to every problem. Now she was just Naomi, and she had to figure out what that meant. therapy helped. She saw Dr. Helen twice a month now.

They talked about boundaries, about self-worth, about recognizing manipulation, about rebuilding trust in herself and others. You’re doing remarkably well, Dr. Helen said during their last session. Most people take years to recover from financial abuse. You’re thriving after just 6 months.

I don’t always feel like I’m thriving, Naomi admitted. Sometimes I feel angry, like I wasted 3 years of my life. You didn’t waste them. You learned from them. You know now what you won’t accept. You know your own strength. Those are valuable lessons. Naomi nodded, but the anger was still there sometimes.

Late at night when she was alone, she would think about everything Dererick had taken from her. Time, money, dreams. But then she would think about what she had gained. Freedom, independence, herself, and the anger would fade a little. The divorce was finalized in March. Dererick had tried to fight it, but his arguments fell apart under scrutiny.

Patricia had presented the evidence. Bank statements, text messages, testimony from Brenda and Naomi’s mother. The judge ruled quickly. Divorce granted. No spousal support for Derek. The house went to Naomi. Dererick’s debts remained his alone. Naomi sold the house 2 weeks later. She didn’t want it. Too many memories.

Too many reminders of who she used to be. She made a profit of $40,000 after paying off her small remaining debts. She put half in savings, used the other half to pay for her online courses and buy a reliable car. The old car, the one that had driven her to four jobs every day, she donated. She didn’t want it either.

Everything from her old life she was leaving behind. In April, Naomi enrolled in a full physical therapy program at the community college. Evening classes twice a week. She could work during the day and study at night. It would take 3 years to finish, but she had time now. She had energy now. She could do this. Her mother came to visit one Sunday and brought lunch.

They ate on Naomi’s small couch, the TV playing in the background. You look happy, her mother said. I am most days. I’m proud of you. I know I should have said something years ago when I saw how tired you were, how thin you were getting. But I didn’t want to interfere in your marriage. It’s okay, Mom. I wouldn’t have listened anyway.

I had to figure it out myself. Still, I’m your mother. I should have done more. Naomi squeezed her hand. You’re doing more now. That’s what matters. In May, Brenda invited Naomi to a cookout at her house. My son is bringing some friends. One of them is single. Nice guy, accountant. Naomi almost said no. She wasn’t ready to date. Wasn’t ready to trust someone new. But then she thought about Dr.

Helen’s words. Healing doesn’t mean hiding. It means learning to live again. So, she went to the cookout. Brenda’s son’s friend was named Isaiah. He was tall with an easy smile. He worked as an accountant at a nonprofit. He asked Naomi about her job, her studies, her interests. He listened when she talked. Really listened.

So, what do you do for fun? He asked. Naomi realized she didn’t know. She had spent so many years working. She had forgotten what fun was. I’m still figuring that out, she admitted. Isaiah smiled. That’s fair. Tell you what, there’s a food festival downtown next Saturday. Want to go? We can try new things and see what you like. Naomi hesitated.

Then she thought about Derek about how he never asked what she wanted to do. How he made all the decisions. Isaiah was offering her a choice, not deciding for her, asking. Sure, she said. That sounds nice. The food festival was fun. They tried Thai food, Mexican food, soul food, Greek food.

They walked around talking about everything and nothing. Isaiah told her about his family, his job, his dream of traveling to Japan someday. He asked Naomi about her dreams. “I want to be a physical therapist,” she said. “I want to help people recover from injuries, build strength, get back to their lives.” “That’s beautiful,” Isaiah said.

“Why physical therapy?” “Because I know what it’s like to be broken,” Naomi said. “And I know what it takes to heal. I want to help other people find that strength. Isaiah looked at her with something like admiration. I think you’re going to be amazing at it. They went on a second date, then a third, then it became a regular thing.

Dinner on Wednesdays, movies on Saturdays, long phone calls on Sunday afternoons. Isaiah never pushed, never assumed. He always asked, “What did she want to eat? What movie did she want to see? How was she feeling?” He respected her boundaries. When she said she needed space, he gave it. When she said she wasn’t ready for something, he understood.

I’m divorced, she told him on their fifth date. Recently was bad. I’m still working through a lot. Thank you for telling me, Isaiah said. We can go as slow as you need. No pressure, and he meant it. For the first time in years, Naomi felt seen. Not as a solution to someone’s problems, not as a paycheck, not as a means to an end, just as herself. By summer, Naomi had a routine. Work classes, study time.

Dinner with her mother on Sundays, date nights with Isaiah on Wednesdays and Saturdays, therapy on Thursday afternoons. It was a full life, but it was her life. She ran into Derek once at a coffee shop in September. He was working there behind the counter taking orders. He looked up when she came in and froze.

Naomi almost left, but then she thought, “Why should she? She had every right to be here.” She walked up to the counter. “Hi, Derek,” she said calmly. “Hi.” His voice was quiet. “What can I get you?” “Mium vanilla latte, please.” He nodded and wrote her name on the cup with shaking hands.

While he made her drink, Naomi looked around. The coffee shop was small but clean. Dererick looked exhausted, “Older, thinner.” He handed her the latte. “That’s 450,” he said. She paid with her card. Their fingers didn’t touch. How are you? Derek asked even though he clearly didn’t want to know the answer. I’m good. Really good.

I’m in school studying to be a physical therapist. That’s great. I’m happy for you. He didn’t sound happy. You sounded hollow. How are you? She asked though she wasn’t sure why. Getting by. I’m working here and doing some freelance work on the side trying to pay down the debt. Good luck with that. Derek nodded.

Naomi, I want to say don’t. she interrupted. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there. She picked up her latte and walked out. Her hands were steady. Her heart was calm. She felt nothing but pity for him. And that’s when she knew she had truly moved on.

One year after leaving Derek, Naomi celebrated her birthday in a way she never had before. She took the whole day off work. She slept in until 9:00. She made pancakes and ate them slowly while watching her favorite show. She went to get her nails done. Then she met her mother and Brenda for lunch at a nice restaurant.

No rushing, no squeezing things between shifts, no exhaustion, just a normal relaxing day. How does it feel to be 34? Brenda asked over dessert. Honestly, amazing. Last year at this time, I was working four jobs and couldn’t remember what month it was. Now I’m actually living. You look different, her mother said. lighter like you’re not carrying the world on your shoulders anymore.

I’m not. I’m only carrying myself and that’s so much easier. That evening, Isaiah took her to dinner. He had made reservations at a steakhouse overlooking the river. The kind of place Naomi would have never gone with Derek because they couldn’t afford it, or rather because Dererick spent all their money on Amber.

I have something for you, Isaiah said after they ordered. He pulled out a small wrapped box. Naomi opened it. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a single charm, a phoenix rising from the ashes, Isaiah explained. That’s what you did. You rebuilt yourself. Naomi felt tears prickling her eyes. This is beautiful. Thank you. You’re beautiful inside and out.

And I wanted you to have something to remind you how strong you are. They had been dating for 7 months now. It was different from her relationship with Derek in every way. Isaiah was consistent, reliable, kind. He supported her dreams instead of dismissing them. He encouraged her instead of diminishing her.

“I love you,” Isaiah said. “I know it might be too soon to say that, but it’s true, and I wanted you to know.” Naomi’s heart felt full. She hadn’t said those words to anyone in a long time. She had thought maybe she never would again, but looking at Isaiah, she felt it.

Well, real love, the kind that lifted instead of dragged down. I love you too, she said. In November, Naomi completed her first year of classes. All A’s. Her professors praised her dedication and insight. One of them suggested she consider specializing in trauma recovery. Patients who needed physical therapy after accidents or violence. You have a natural empathy for people who are rebuilding, the professor said.

And your own experience could help you connect with them. Naomi thought about it. She knew what it was like to rebuild, to start from nothing, to fight for every inch of progress. Maybe she could help others do the same. She signed up for additional coursework in trauma-informed care. The hospital promoted her in December. Her new title was operations coordinator.

More responsibility, better pay, her own office with a window. She sat at her new desk and looked around. Diplomas on the wall. Photos of her mother, Brenda Isaiah. a calendar with her class schedule marked in neat rows. This was success, not the fake success Dererick had promised, not the exhausting treadmill of trying to fix someone else’s mistakes. Real success built by her for her.

In January, Naomi moved to a bigger apartment, two bedrooms this time. She turned the second bedroom into a study, desk, bookshelf, comfortable chair, a place to do her homework, a place to think. Isaiah helped her move. So did Brenda and her mother. They ordered pizza and laughed while unpacking boxes.

Remember when all you had was one suitcase? Brenda said, “And a mattress on the floor,” Naomi added. “I’ve come a long way. You’ve come exactly as far as you needed to.” Her mother said that night after everyone left, Naomi stood in her new apartment and looked around. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t big, but it was hers.

every piece of furniture she had chosen, every decoration she had placed, every bill she paid with money she earned at a job she liked. No one was stealing from her. No one was using her. No one was calling her a slave. She was free and freedom was worth more than anything. In February, Naomi ran into Amber at the grocery store. She recognized her immediately from the photos.

Red hair, though shorter now, she looked tired, worn down. Amber saw Naomi and froze. Hi,” Amber said quietly. Naomi nodded. Hi. I want to apologize, Amber said. For everything. I didn’t know he was married. I mean, he said you were separated, but I should have questioned it more. I should have been smarter. Yes, you should have, Naomi said. Not mean, just honest.

He lied to me, too, about everything. His job, his money, his life. When you left, everything fell apart. He came to me begging for money. I almost gave it to him because I felt sorry for him, but then I realized he would just keep taking. That’s what he does, Naomi said. I broke up with him, blocked his number. I haven’t talked to him in months. Naomi shrugged. That’s between you and him. I know.

I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. Not that it changes anything, but I am. Naomi studied her. Amber looked genuine. Regretful. Okay. Naomi said. Apology heard. Are you happy now? Amber asked after leaving him. Very happy. Amber nodded slowly. Good. You deserve that. They went their separate ways. Naomi didn’t feel angry at Amber anymore. Didn’t feel anything really.

Amber was just another person Dererick had used. Another victim of his manipulation. The difference was Naomi had escaped and now she was thriving. 2 years after leaving Derek, Naomi got her physical therapy license. She walked across the stage at graduation, accepted her diploma, and looked out at the audience. Her mother was crying. Brenda was cheering.

Isaiah was beaming with pride. This was the moment Naomi had dreamed of 10 years ago. The moment Derrick had convinced her to postpone. The moment she had thought she would never reach, but she had reached it on her own terms, in her own time. She had done it. After graduation, there was a party at her mother’s house.

friends from the hospital, classmates, people who had supported her journey. They ate cake and took photos and talked about the future. “What’s next?” someone asked. “I have interviews at three hospitals,” Naomi said. “And one at a rehabilitation center that specializes in trauma recovery. That’s the one I really want.

” “You’ll get it,” Isaiah said confidently. “You’re the best candidate they’ll interview.” He was right. Two weeks later, Naomi accepted a position at Phoenix Rehabilitation Center. The name felt like fate. Phoenix rising from the ashes. Her first day she met her patients. People recovering from car accidents, from falls, from violence.

People who had been broken and were learning to be whole again. She understood them completely. Physical therapy isn’t just about healing your body. She told them it’s about rebuilding your strength, your confidence, your belief that you can do hard things because you can. I know you can. She was good at her job.

Her patients responded to her. They trusted her. They worked hard because she made them believe in themselves. In May, Naomi bought a house, a small three-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood. It had a yard and a porch and bright windows that let in lots of light.

She stood in the empty living room and remembered the house she had shared with Derek. How she had paid every bill while he lived free. How she had sacrificed everything to keep them afloat. This house was different. This house was hers alone, bought with money she earned, paid for with her own credit. No one could take it from her. No one could claim they were entitled to it. Isaiah helped her pick out furniture.

They spent weekends at antique stores and thrift shops, finding pieces with character, a dining table, a couch, bookshelves for all the books she was finally reading again. “Move in with me,” Naomi said one Sunday while they were painting the bedroom. Isaiah paused, paintbrush in hand. “Are you sure?” I’m sure. I love you.

I trust you. And I want to build a life with you. What about taking things slow? It’s been 2 years. That’s slow enough. Naomi smiled. Besides, you’re already here every weekend anyway. Might as well make it official. Isaiah set down the paintbrush and kissed her. Yes, absolutely. Yes. He moved in two weeks later.

Unlike Derek, he brought his own furniture, his own dishes, his own money. He paid half the mortgage, half the utilities, half the groceries. He was a partner, a real partner, not someone Naomi had to carry. In July, Naomi was promoted to senior physical therapist. She was asked to mentor new graduates, to train them, to pass on what she had learned. You have a special gift, her supervisor said.

Patients respond to you. They push themselves harder with you than with anyone else. We need more therapists like you. Naomi thought about Derek, about how he had made her feel worthless, about how he had told his friends she was his slave. If he could see her now, what would he think? Not that it mattered. His opinion didn’t matter anymore.

In August, Naomi ran into Derek for the last time. She was at the mall with her mother, shopping for furniture for her home office. They were passing the food court when she saw him. He was sitting alone at a table, eating cheap fast food, staring at his phone. He looked up and their eyes met. Naomi saw him hesitate. Saw him debate whether to approach. Then he stood up and walked over. Naomi, he said, “Hi. Hi, Derek. You look great.

Really great. Thank you. I heard you bought a house and that you’re a physical therapist now.” “Yes, I am.” He nodded. “That’s amazing. I’m happy for you. What about you?” Naomi asked, though she didn’t really care. “I’m managing. Finally got a full-time job. Office work is boring, but it pays the bills. Still paying off the debt. Probably will be for the next 10 years. I’m sorry to hear that.

Dererick laughed bitterly. No, you’re not. You’re right. I’m not. He looked at her for a long moment. I was horrible to you. I know that. I used you. I lied to you. I took advantage of your love. And I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I am sorry. Naomi considered his words. Two years ago, she would have wanted this apology, would have needed it. Now it felt empty, too late, meaningless.

Okay, she said. I accept your apology. Do you forgive me? Naomi thought about that. Did she forgive him? Could she? I don’t know, she said honestly. But I don’t think about you anymore. I don’t wonder what you’re doing. I don’t care if you’re happy or sad or struggling. You’re just not part of my life anymore. Dererick flinched like she had slapped him.

I think that’s worse than hate, he said quietly. Maybe. But it’s the truth. I guess I deserve that. You do? Derek nodded. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve to be happy. You always did. Yes, I did. I just wish I had realized it sooner. Naomi walked away then. She didn’t look back. Her mother caught up with her.

Are you okay? I’m perfect, Naomi said, and she meant it. That evening, she and Isaiah sat on their porch watching the sunset. The sky was pink and orange and purple. Beautiful. I saw Derek today. Naomi said, “How did that go? It was fine and a climactic actually.” He apologized. I accepted. We both moved on. Do you feel closure? Naomi thought about it.

I don’t need closure from him. I already have closure. I have my life, my career, my home. That’s all the closure I need. Isaiah squeezed her hand. Have I told you lately that you’re amazing? You have? But I don’t mind hearing it again. You’re amazing. You’re strong. You’re brilliant. And I’m lucky to be with you. Naomi smiled. I’m lucky, too.

In October, Naomi celebrated her 36th birthday. They threw a party in her backyard. Friends, family, co-workers, everyone she cared about. Brenda brought champagne. A toast, she said, raising her glass. To Naomi, who went from working four jobs and living in hell to being the most successful person I know. You did that. And we’re all so proud.

Everyone cheered. Naomi looked around at the faces. People who loved her, people who supported her, people who had watched her transformation and cheered her on. Two years ago, she had been broken, exhausted, lost. Now she was whole. Thank you, she said, all of you for believing in me, for standing by me, for reminding me that I was worth more than I thought I was.

Her mother wiped tears from her eyes. You were always worth everything, baby. You just needed to see it yourself. That night, after everyone left, Naomi sat on her porch with Isaiah. They didn’t talk. They just sat together, comfortable in the silence. Naomi thought about the woman she had been, the woman who worked four jobs.

The woman who believed she was responsible for her husband’s mistakes. The woman who overheard him call her his slave. That woman was gone. In her place was someone stronger. Someone who knew her worth. Someone who wouldn’t accept anything less than she deserved. Naomi had wanted revenge once. Had wanted Dererick to suffer the way she had suffered.

But now she realized this was better than revenge. This was victory. Not over Derek, over the life that had tried to break her. She had survived. She had rebuilt. She had thrived.