Clare dropped onto my couch and pressed her palms to her eyes. “I don’t want to live like that,” she whispered. “I don’t want my marriage to be a career.”
I sat beside her. “What did you say to him?”“I told him I’m not a brand,” Clare said, voice shaking. “And he looked at me like I’d spoken a language he didn’t understand.”
My chest tightened with something protective and furious. “Do you love him?” I asked gently.
Clare nodded, tears leaking. “Yes. But love isn’t enough if he keeps choosing his mother’s approval over my dignity.”
I reached for her hand. “Then you’re going to have to decide what you’re willing to tolerate,” I said. “And what you’re not.”
Clare’s fingers tightened around mine. “I don’t want to lose him,” she whispered.
“Then tell him the truth,” I said. “Not the polished version. The real version.”
Clare took a shuddering breath. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
“Me too,” I said. “But we’re not little anymore. We don’t have to earn our place by disappearing.”
Clare wiped her face and looked at me with a steadiness I hadn’t seen in her in years. “Will you come with me?” she asked. “To talk to him? Not like… an attack. Just… support.”