In the en suite bathroom, Cecilia squatted next to the toilet and cried bitterly.

She knew that doing so meant that she had hit rock bottom.

But she couldn’t control herself.

This was the only way she could release her pent-up frustration, because the moment she walked out that door, she’d have to pretend that she was completely fine.

She still had to be a good daughter.

She still had to be a good mother.

She still had to be a glamorous model…

“Suck it up, Cecilia,” she told herself through gritted teeth.

She told herself she wasn’t allowed to cry.

her listless eyes landed on a stray pack

and fell into deep thought, recalling the first time she met

then, Cecilia was young and

a man

front of her house,

the Fowler’s house, looking handsome

day, Cecilia learned that the man was none other than Mark

also

stairs gracefully, as her father requested her to

face, she couldn’t help but think that

then, should she, a full-grown adult, address him

she could see that both her father and

that if she was humble and obedient,

day, Cecilia had worn a

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