Tommy looked just as shocked as I was to see the snake. His eyes widened and he instinctively reached for his phone. For a moment, I thought he was going to call for help, but he hesitated. Instead, he dialed Lolly's number.

"Tommy, thank you for the shoes you gave me, they are so beautiful," I heard Lolly’s cheerful voice on the other end of the line.

"What’s with the snake?" Tommy asked, his voice laced with confusion and anger.

Lolly laughed, a crisp, lighthearted sound. "It’s just a little fun. An eye for an eye. Who told her to ruin my birthday party deliberately? Don’t worry, Snaky isn’t poisonous."

Tommy visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping as relief washed over his face. He shot me a quick glance before retreating to the balcony to continue the conversation in private.

I watched him walk away, feeling a knot tighten in my chest. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had a deep fear of snakes. I called out to Tommy, my voice trembling, but he ignored me. Panic surged through me. My eyes fixed on the snake still writhing on the floor, its tongue flicking out as if taunting me.

My breath came in short gasps and I knew I couldn’t wait for Tommy. I had to do something myself. Summoning every ounce of courage, I opened my eyes and shakily reached for the snake, pinching its neck between my fingers. With all the strength I could muster, I threw the snake across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor, still moving.

I collapsed onto the sofa, drenched in sweat, curling up in fear. The snake lay on the floor, still, but its presence was enough to keep me paralyzed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t bring myself to get up and walk back to the bedroom. It felt like hours before Tommy finally came back inside, finding me huddled and trembling on the couch.

"Laura?" he called softly. His eyes took in my pale face, the beads of sweat on my forehead and the way I was shaking uncontrollably. "Lolly was just joking. She’s young; don’t take it so seriously."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My mind was still trapped in the fear, the memory of the snake’s cold, scaly skin against my hand. Seeing my state, Tommy’s face clouded with concern. Realizing the severity of my reaction, he decided to take me to the hospital.

He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and led me to the car. The ride to the hospital felt endless. I sat in the passenger seat, my body trembling, still feeling the phantom touch of the snake wrapping around my arm and neck, squeezing the breath out of me. I clutched the blanket tightly, trying to ground myself, but my mind wouldn’t stop replaying the moment the snake bit me.

"Tommy, I’m scared…" My voice was barely a whisper, weak and shaky.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to me and for a moment, I saw genuine concern in his expression. His tone softened and he reached out to touch my hand. "It’s okay, Laura. Don’t be afraid. We’re almost at the hospital. Just hold on a little longer, okay?" His voice was low and gentle, a stark contrast to the indifference I was used to. It soothed me and slowly, bit by bit, the fear began to ebb away.

But just as I started to calm down, Tommy slammed on the brakes. My body lurched forward, stopped only by the seatbelt and my heart leaped into my throat.

My forehead smacked into the “Lolly Little Princess Seat” ornament hanging from the rearview mirror, sending a dull throb through my skull. I groaned, trying to steady my breathing. Tommy’s phone buzzed, drawing his attention away from me. His brow furrowed as he read the message, his expression a mixture of irritation and something else—maybe guilt.

"Take a taxi to the hospital," he said abruptly. "I need to take Snaky back to Lolly first." His voice was flat, indifferent.

Just hearing the word “snake” made my face go pale, the fear I felt earlier surging back into my veins like ice water.

Tommy opened the passenger door and nudged me out without another word. "You’re a grown woman, Laura. You’ll be fine. I’ll check on you later. But if Snaky has any issues, Lolly will be upset. You know how she is."

The car engine roared to life and before I could argue or plead, Tommy drove off, leaving me on the side of a deserted road. I stood there, feeling lost and abandoned. The tall grass at my feet rustled and I jumped back, imagining another snake slithering out to strike. My breath quickened, panic bubbling up in my chest. I couldn’t stay here. I had to move.

Ignoring the pain in my sprained foot, I hobbled down the road, limping until I reached a more populated street. The sight of people calmed me a little, but the fear and hurt were still raw. The tight string of composure I had been clinging to snapped. I stood there on the busy sidewalk and let out a sob, then another, until I was crying uncontrollably, my shoulders shaking with the force of my grief.

I was furious—furious at Tommy for abandoning me when I needed him most, for indulging Lolly’s cruel pranks, for choosing her over me again and again. I was angry at myself for staying with him, for sacrificing my career and my happiness. Over the past eight years, resentment and frustration had built up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt.

Once the tears had stopped and I was left feeling empty and hollow, I hailed a taxi and headed to the hospital for a full check-up. The doctor reassured me that the snake wasn’t poisonous, but he could see that the encounter had left me deeply shaken. My ankle, which I had twisted during the earlier fall, was worse off now and he put a plaster cast on it. As he wrapped my foot, I snapped a picture to send to my boss, asking to extend my leave.

I promised him that I would take care of everything, ensuring my injury wouldn’t interfere with my work. His response came quickly: “Don’t put too many shackles on yourself. You’re very good. Take the time you need to heal and take care of yourself.”

Those words—simple, sincere—were the first bit of kindness I’d felt in a long time. They touched something deep inside me, a part of me that had almost forgotten what it felt like to be valued and appreciated.

With a sigh, I typed out a breakup message to Tommy. I was done. No more waiting, no more hoping for change. I needed to move on.

When I got back home, I was surprised to see Tommy there, bustling around the kitchen. He’d set the table with my favorite dishes, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the air. He looked up and smiled, though his eyes flickered to the plaster on my foot before quickly looking away.

"Laura, I made dinner to apologize. Let’s not fight anymore, okay? Let’s go pick up Grandma and have a nice meal together," he said, his tone almost pleading.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I walked past him, heading straight to the bedroom. I pulled my suitcase out from the closet and started throwing my clothes inside. Tommy followed me, confusion crossing his face.

"Laura, what are you doing? I said I was sorry," he insisted, reaching out to touch my arm.

I shrugged him off. "Grandma passed away," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

Tommy stood there, stunned. His eyes widened in disbelief as he tried to process my words.

"What did you say?Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he demanded, his voice tinged with confusion and anger.

I paused, my hands gripping the edge of the suitcase. "I did, Tommy. I told you. But you were too busy with Lolly. Too busy with everything else to care."

The realization seemed to hit him like a blow. He took a step back, the color draining from his face. "Laura, I—"

I let out a bitter laugh, one that seemed to echo off the walls of the room. I turned to leave, but Tommy blocked my path, frantically pulling out his phone, scrolling through it as if searching for something. I glanced over and saw something that didn’t surprise me anymore—he had blocked my number long ago.

Tommy looked up from his phone, trying to make excuses. "It was Lolly… She was just joking. You know she’s young. She gave me her first time and…"

I cut him off, my voice sharp and cold. "If the first time is so important, then why don’t you marry her? Why are you still with me? I didn’t care that it wasn’t your first time. So why does it matter to you?"

Tommy’s face froze. He hadn’t expected me to talk back, not after years of enduring his insults and belittlement. “You can’t compare yourself to me!” he finally barked. “I’m a man! It’s a matter of male dignity!”

I felt something inside me snap, like a taut wire breaking under too much strain. “You have the nerve to talk about dignity? You call yourself a man?” I spat back.

Tommy’s face twisted in fury. In a sudden fit of rage, he grabbed a plate from the table and hurled it against the wall. The ceramic shattered and a sharp fragment flew past, cutting my hand. I stared at the blood pooling on my palm, more stunned by Tommy’s outburst than by the pain.

For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. The room was filled with the sound of my labored breathing, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Finally, the words I had held back for so long burst out of me. “Tommy, what right do you have to yell at me? Do you think I don’t know about the things you do behind closed doors? The things you never want anyone to find out?”

A flash of panic crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with indignation. “Don’t talk nonsense! I have nothing to hide!”

The day my grandmother passed away, I uncovered the secret Tommy had buried deep in his heart—a secret that had killed any love or hope I had left for him.