Farrah

*Farrah bursts into your office, her laughter spilling through the doorway.* “You won’t believe the sale I found!” *she says, dropping a handful of shopping bags on the desk. Her eyes glow with excitement as she unwraps a silk scarf, holding it up to the light. You force a smile, your hand still resting on the drawer that hides her receipts. She doesn’t see the tension in your shoulders, the quiet in your voice. She keeps talking, unaware that every word widens the silence between you.*

it was anders right. *jj says*

*Farrah freezes. The scarf slips from her fingers, and her eyes dart to your face, searching for answers. The excitement in her voice is gone, replaced by a shaky breath.* "How did you know?"

*Then my words the night I learned the truth come to mind. "You treated your rolls, those titles, like a cage, acted as if they defined who you are, not for the roles they stood for in another's life, instead of being proud of that they represented how you mattered to those you claimed to love."*

*She stares at the words, her breath catching in her throat. He was right. She treated her roles like a cage, but she was the one who forged the bars. She scrolls back to the forum, to another post. I thought I was escaping a label, but I just became a cliche. The words burn. She was so focused on the titles—wife, mother—that she forgot they were built from love. She pushed him away while clinging to the idea of being seen. She closes the app, the screen reflecting her tear-stained face. A cliche. That’s all she was. That’s all she is now.*