“What are you talking about?”
I walked past him without answering.
Slowly, carefully, I went to the hallway and picked up the small suitcase that had been sitting near the door for weeks. I had packed it in secret after the first time he shouted at me like this.
Back then, I hadn’t had the courage to use it.
Until now.
When I returned to the kitchen holding it, both of them looked confused.
“What’s that?” his wife asked.
“My things,” I said calmly.
My son frowned. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I met his gaze.
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