I took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of resolve I had left. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crumble under her malicious gaze. “Olga,” I began, my voice steady yet firm, “I won’t be giving you any money for the fridge. In fact, I won’t be giving you any money at all.”
Her eyes finally flickered up from the catalog, a mixture of disbelief and rage clouding her face. “What do you mean, you won’t be giving me money? You ungrateful little—”
I cut her off, the words tumbling out as if they had been waiting for this exact moment. “I’m leaving, Olga. I’m done with this toxic environment. I’ve booked a hotel room and I’ll be moving my things out this weekend.” It felt surreal to say it out loud, but once the words were spoken, a weight lifted from my chest.
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