Margaret’s eyes were still wide with shock, red wine pooling in her lap. “You—how dare you—”

“How dare I?” I echoed, my voice gaining strength. “How dare I stand up for myself? How dare I refuse to be the butt of your jokes? I dare because I deserve better than this.”

I gathered my bag, ignoring the eyes of the other patrons. I didn’t feel embarrassed; I felt liberated. With every step I took, I felt the weight of years lifting from my shoulders. I turned back one last time, meeting their stunned silence with a smile.