Susan had spent most of her life walking on eggshells. The youngest of three sisters, she had always been the one who was expected to adapt — to be flexible, to shift, to make room for others. Her family loved her, she was sure of it, but their love came with the unspoken expectation that she would maintain the peace, keep things light, avoid confrontation. It wasn’t that they were overtly controlling; rather, it was the subtle ways they maneuvered around her, like a river gently carving its way through stone.
Now in her mid-thirties, Susan lived in a small apartment, a modest space filled with second-hand furniture and the scent of lavender candles. The apartment was one part haven, one part prison; it was where she came to rest, but also where she felt the weight of her family’s influence even when they weren’t there. Her mother called every day without fail, quick to remind her of the things she should or shouldn’t be doing. “Have you thought about settling down, Susan?” was the question that floated over every conversation like a fog.
Her sisters, Melissa and Joan, had their own opinions too, often dropping by with unsolicited advice about her career, her hair, even her choice of groceries. “You should try the organic market, Susie,” Melissa had said just last weekend, her voice dripping with well-meaning judgement as she scanned Susan’s pantry. “So much healthier.”
Yet, it was her relationship with Tom that weighed heaviest. Tom was steady, reliable, every bit the partner her family approved of. And yet, Susan found herself feeling smaller each day, her preferences and dreams quietly folded away to accommodate his. Tom wasn’t malicious, but he was dismissive, steering the course of their shared life with an authority she found difficult to challenge.
One Thursday afternoon, while the rain rattled against her windows, Susan sat on her couch, a newly delivered book resting on her lap. The cover was bright red, the title proclaiming loudly about the art of living authentically. She’d ordered it on a whim, its blurb promising insight into reclaiming one’s life. Now, the book’s presence seemed almost brazen, a rebel in her muted decor.
She was halfway through the first chapter when her phone rang. It was Tom, calling during his commute home as he always did.
“Hey, how’s your day been?” he asked, his voice a familiar rumble through the speaker.
“Good,” she replied, marking her place with a crumpled receipt. “Just finished a work report.”
“That’s great. I was thinking we’d try that new Italian place tonight. You’re up for it, right?” It wasn’t really a question.
Susan hesitated, a faint frustration bubbling up. “Actually, I was hoping to stay in and read tonight.”
“Read?” Tom’s chuckle was light, easy-going. “You can read anytime. Come on, an evening out will be fun.”
The ease with which he dismissed her plans stung, the moment hanging in the air like an unspoken accusation. “It’s just… I’ve been looking forward to this book,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
There was a pause, a brief silence filled with the sound of his car engine. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he said finally, though his tone was tinged with disappointment.
The call ended soon after, their usual “love you” exchanged out of habit rather than feeling. Susan sat there, her mind running through a familiar cycle of guilt and justification. Was she being selfish? Should she have just gone along with it?
But then she thought of the book, its vibrant cover a symbol of a truth she was only beginning to grasp. The idea that her desires, her choices, were valid — that she didn’t need permission to live her own life.
As the rain continued to fall, Susan made a decision. Small, perhaps, but monumental. She picked up her phone and texted Tom, her fingers trembling slightly.
“I’ve been thinking, let’s make it a night in together sometime. But tonight, I really need this time for myself.”
The message was simple, but it was hers.
Later, as she nestled back into the couch, book in hand, Susan felt something unfurl inside her — a delicate yet powerful sense of freedom. Her world hadn’t changed overnight, but for the first time in years, she had made a choice that was entirely her own.
In the quiet of her apartment, Susan began to read, the words weaving into her soul, affirming what she had always known deep down: that her voice was worth hearing, her wishes worth pursuing. And for the first time, she truly believed it.