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I sat on the couch, unable to lift my eyes.
Michael was holding my old childhood notebook.
It was the same notebook in which I had drawn my dreams when I was twelve years old.
Inside were pictures of arms covered in flowers, shoulders decorated
with butterflies, and one large sentence:
“One day, I’ll be beautiful enough that I won’t feel ashamed of myself anymore.”
Michael remained silent for a long time.
Then he satstroked my belly.
“Because I don’t want our child growing up with a mother who insults herself in the mirror every single morning.”
Michael lowered his head.
“And I thought you were just trying to get people’s attention.”
I smiled bitterly.
“Michael, I’ve spent my entire life trying to hide from people.”
At that moment, he began to cry.
It was the first time I had ever seen my husband so emotional.
