The first uncontested breath in an old armchair

Dear Delyara, He moved out on Tuesday after four years of constant, low-level emotional warfare. For forty-eight months, every step I took in this house felt like walking on broken glass in bare feet. I was always adjusting my voice, my clothes, my expressions just to keep the peace. Tonight, a heavy thunderstorm hit the city. Usually, the thunder would trigger his temper, and I’d spend the night calming him down. Instead, I opened the window, pulled the old velvet armchair right up to the glass, and let the cold, rain-soaked air hit my face. I sat there for three hours, breathing deeply, completely unbothered, completely safe. The house is half-empty and the rent will be tight, but my healing has finally begun. I took my life back from the front lines.