"A so-called genius fashion designer, but her designs aren't as good as yours." Hanna scoffed.
I majored in fashion design in college and my mentor once said I had great talent and could become a rising star in the industry if I persisted. But that incident nearly destroyed my will, leading me to quit my job and focus on recuperating at home. Over the past three years, I completed ten designs but never turned them into finished products, locking them all in my studio. It's been almost a year since I last looked at them or picked up a pencil.
After discussing our strategy, I prepared to go home and pack, telling Chase I was going on a trip with Hanna to unwind. I didn't have his impeccable acting skills and was afraid of giving myself away before obtaining concrete evidence of his infidelity. If he knew I wanted a divorce, he would take action. The cost of divorce was too high for him to bear.
As we walked out, we saw a somewhat familiar person. Seeing her, my breath caught and I felt transported back to that helpless night.
Hanna quickly pulled me away, constantly reassuring me, "Monica, it's all over. Breathe with me, inhale ... exhale ... repeat three times."