When I told my grandmother that my husband was unfaithful, she simply smiled and asked, “Carrot, egg, or coffee?”

Something tightened in my chest.

Suddenly, the meaning of everything she’d done became painfully clear.

Tears spilled down my face before I could stop them.

“I’ve been the carrot,” I whispered.

“Every time he betrayed me, I softened a little more. I kept telling myself that love meant endurance.”

My voice trembled.

“I gave and gave… until there was almost nothing left of me.”

My grandmother reached across the table and gently held my hand.


The Person I Was Becoming

“And now,” I continued quietly, “I feel myself turning into the egg.”

“Hard.”

“Closed.”

“Bitter.”

I stared at the table.

“I don’t trust anyone anymore. I don’t even recognize myself.”

She squeezed my fingers softly.

“And what do you want to become?” she asked.


Choosing Who I Would Be

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