The Fracture and the Bread
Had I been rich from the start, he’d have been charming and attentive and my mother-in-law would have found my seasoning delicious.
The cruelty was never personal in the way cruelty usually feels personal.
It was a policy.
It was how his family treated anyone they had priced as beneath them, and I had simply been the one who happened to be miscategorized.
That is a strange thing to find liberating, but I did.
It meant none of it had ever been a verdict on me.