Chapter 3: The First Step Toward Freedom

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2

After calming down, I quietly made breakfast and ate alone.

The house was silent except for the pop of the toaster. I fried a couple of eggs, letting the radio play old Patsy Cline songs. Each bite was mechanical, but I forced myself to finish, knowing I’d need the energy.

Then I went to the plant to find the supervisor.

The air outside was crisp with autumn, the sidewalk edged with piles of brown leaves. I walked past the mural of Rosie the Riveter by the entrance, feeling its faded optimism.

"You haven't handed in your application yet. Why the change of heart?" the supervisor asked.

Mr. Cavanaugh was a big man with a bristly mustache and hands that always smelled faintly of machine oil. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses, waiting for my answer.

I smiled awkwardly. "I'm really sorry, sir."

I fiddled with the strap of my purse, avoiding his gaze, hoping my voice sounded steady enough to mask the storm inside.

He waved it off and handed the application back to me. "Natalie, being admitted to Great Lakes Institute of Technology is a great honor for our plant."

He thumped my application on the desk like it was a golden ticket. I could tell he was genuinely proud, even if I wasn’t sure I deserved it anymore.

"Heck, I even tried talking Derek into letting you go. Would’ve been a shame to waste a shot like that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. The way he said Derek’s name, I could tell he liked him, but he still thought I deserved a shot.

"Looks like Derek's words carry some weight."

His tone was half-joking, but I felt the sting underneath. Derek always seemed to have the final say, even when it came to my own life.

I thanked the supervisor, took the application, and left the plant.

Outside, the sky was a dull, overcast gray. I paused on the stoop, clutching the papers so tightly they crumpled in my hand.

As soon as I stepped outside, I tore up the application and tossed it in the trash can next to the sidewalk.

My hands shook as I ripped the paper, each tear louder than I expected. I half-waited for someone to stop me, but the street stayed quiet.

Looking at the scraps in the bin, I couldn't help but laugh at myself.

The sound was brittle and hollow. I shook my head, half-amused, half-bitter, at the irony of it all.

So, the supervisor had actually tried to persuade Derek to let me go to the Midwest. But he never mentioned it to me. Instead, he urged me to come back and retrieve the application as soon as possible.

Pieces were clicking into place. All those little conversations, the knowing glances—now I understood how much Derek had controlled the narrative.

In my previous life, I sacrificed my own future to support him, so he could study in peace.

I remembered staying up late, balancing the checkbook, making sure the bills were paid so he wouldn’t have to worry. I thought love meant sacrifice, but now it felt like surrender.

And what did he do? At college, he found a soulmate who truly understood him.

He sent postcards about his "lab partner," full of in-jokes and casual mentions. I never suspected there was something deeper—until it was too late.

And for her, he blocked my promotion for ten years.

Each year, my hope flickered and died, and I convinced myself it was just bad luck, not sabotage.

In the end, he even used all his connections to protect his white moonlight, pushing me aside.

The truth burned. I stood a little straighter, resolved not to make the same mistake twice.