Sugar

by Mia Ballard

My transformation wasn't for love; it was a sacrifice on the altar of compromise, a slow, insidious erasure of my identity. The realization of his infidelity is a perverse liberation, a permission slip signed in betrayal that frees me from the self-imposed shackles. I no longer feel the need to dim my own light to match his dull glow.

After burying my beloved Dean underneath the lemon tree in our backyard, I did the only reasonable thing left: I bake a cake.

“My husband is gone,” I spit out, venom lacing every word. “He cheated on me, and now I’m being kicked out of the club. Do you want me to jump out a fucking window?”