When I boarded my husband’s private jet, his secretary was sitting beside him in my usual seat, feeding him peeled oranges while his mother told me to be considerate. I didn’t argue.

walked away.

There was still work ahead.

There were still parts of my marriage I needed to grieve.

But my money was mine again.

My work was mine.

My decisions were mine.

And Aaron no longer had the power to tell me where I belonged.

The day he told me to remember my place was the day I finally stopped letting him choose it for me.