“Congratulations, kid! Your wife’s locked up for ten years—now the apartment’s ours!” Champagne flowed freely as my husband and mother-in-law toasted my arrest…

“Like a cockroach seeing light,” Sarah thought, the image giving her strength. Her husband’s mistress—because who else could this brazen woman be?—reluctantly stood and tossed a plastic bag at Sarah’s feet.

“Your rags were rotting on the balcony. Take ‘em and get out. This place is half Michael’s. He’s got rights.” Inside the bag were two old jackets and a sweater, pitiful remnants of her past life. Sarah recognized her favorite blue jacket with worn elbows, a gray windbreaker, and a brown sweater with reindeer, a gift from Emily for Christmas two years before the nightmare began. “This is all that’s left of me in this house,” Sarah thought, feeling an odd emptiness. “Where’s Michael?” she asked, surprised by her own calm.

“At work, where else?” the woman scoffed, lighting a cigarette right in the living room. “He’s got a late shift, so clear out nicely. Me and Michael will sort this through a lawyer.” Sarah silently grabbed her things and left.

She didn’t want to argue. Seven years in prison had taught her to save her energy for the battles that mattered. And a big one was coming.

But not now. Now she needed a safe place to regroup and plan her next move. A payphone on the corner still worked.

Fishing coins from her pocket, she dialed a number she knew by heart. “Emily? It’s Sarah. Yeah, I’m out. On parole. Listen, can I crash at your place? Just for a bit, until I figure things out.” Her friend’s voice was excited but firm.

“No question, Sarah. Come over. Same address. Fair warning, it’s a shared place now, not a palace.”

A weight lifted from Sarah’s chest. The bus ride to Emily’s old neighborhood took nearly an hour. Buses ran infrequently, and Sarah had no money for a cab.

She stared out the window at passing buildings, at people hurrying about their lives, feeling like a ghost from the past, accidentally materialized among the living. Emily lived in an old three-story building on the city’s edge, in a shared apartment with two roommates. Even that felt like paradise compared to the void she’d felt in her own home.

“Sarah!” Emily rushed to hug her at the door. “God, I’m so glad to see you!” Her friend hadn’t changed much. Same lively brown eyes, button nose, and unruly dark hair, now tied in a messy bun, though faint crow’s feet and a gray streak at her temple had appeared.

“Come in, don’t be shy!” “Here’s your room!” Emily led her to a tiny space with a narrow bed and a desk by the window. “Old Tom used to live here, but he passed two months ago, so it’s yours for as long as you need.” Sarah’s throat tightened. “Thanks, Emily. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, stop it,” Emily waved her off. “You’re lucky I didn’t sell this dump last year. Almost did, but changed my mind. Prices tanked. Call it fate. Settle in, I’ll make tea. Or are you hungry? Got some chicken I can heat up.”

Only then did Sarah realize she was starving, her stomach growling at the thought of real home-cooked food. “Yeah, maybe…” Emily bustled in the shared kitchen, chatting about the neighbors. “Mrs. Carter’s harmless, though she grumbles nonstop. Watch out for Pete, though—he likes his booze. Not violent, just annoying.”

Sarah half-listened. Something inside her, the mechanism that had kept her going all those years, seemed to break. Now, free and facing reality, her strength drained away.

“Emily, mind if I lie down for a bit?” she interrupted. “Of course, you’re exhausted from the trip. Rest, we’ll talk later.”

The small room smelled of medicine and age, a remnant of its former occupant, but Sarah didn’t care. She collapsed onto the bed, still dressed, and sank into a heavy, dreamless sleep. She woke to a knock at the door.

Emily brought a tray with a bowl of chicken soup, bread, and a glass of juice. “It’s evening already—you slept most of the day,” she said, setting the tray on the desk. “Eat, then tell me what happened. If you want to, of course.” Sarah sat up, rubbing her stiff neck. “Happened?” She gave a bitter smile. “Some bleached chick’s living in my apartment, wearing my robe. My mother-in-law saw me and bolted like I was the plague. And all my stuff fits in this bag.” She nodded at the bundle by the door…