She smiled.

“You end up alone.”

After she left, I sat on the floor where my couch used to be.

For several minutes, I felt hollow.

I had spent years doing everything they asked.

And somehow, the first time I said no, I became the villain.

Then something shifted.

Instead of asking how I could make them understand me, I asked a different question.

How do I protect myself?

I opened my laptop.

I saved everything.

Texts.

Screenshots.

Bank statements.

Furniture receipts.

Messages showing Mia had promised to move out.

Then my phone buzzed.

Mia sent a photo.

She was sitting on my couch with several friends, holding a glass of wine.

They were laughing.

Her caption read:

Don’t worry, your stuff is safe.

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I opened a notebook.

At the top of the first page, I wrote one word.

BOUNDARIES.

Three days later, I sat across from an attorney named Rachel Morgan.

I placed every document on her desk.