Part 3Cinderella Is A Shark Now

I buried myself in work. I needed to build a world where I was the main character.

During that time, I moved again. From a decent apartment to a smaller, more affordable one closer to my new firm. On move-in day, Belen and her boyfriend, Dave, came over. I cooked a big dinner, and we stayed up late talking.

After they left, I leaned against the window, watching the neon lights of the city below. My mind drifted to Benson.

He hadn't contacted me once in six months. Neither had I.

I looked around my small, cramped living room and felt a wave of exhaustion. I thought about the penthouse. I thought about the way he looked when he kissed me—eyes closed, seemingly sincere. I thought about a sunny morning when he’d stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, shirtless, and said, "You know, Noelle, life is better with you in it."

I couldn't tell anyone that I still wasn't over him.

But I also knew I couldn't be his accessory.

"Cinderella," I whispered to the empty room. "This is your world. Wake up."

It was a painful detox, but I couldn't go back. I wanted equality. I wanted to be looked at, not looked down upon. I wanted respect that wasn't tied to a gift.