It was my fear.

I firmly zipped my old red leather wallet.

“No.”

Stephanie blinked in shock.

“What did you just say?”

“I said that I am not paying for any of this.”

I turned away and began walking slowly toward the supermarket’s sliding glass doors.

“Mom! Come back here right now!” Stephanie shrieked behind me. “I did not bring my purse or my cards!”

I kept walking, ignoring the stares around us.

“We have critical guests arriving at the house in two hours for dinner!” she screamed.

The automatic doors opened, letting in the cool outside air.

“If you walk out that door right now, do not ever bother coming back to my house!” Stephanie yelled.

I stopped for only a fraction of a second.

Then I took a breath and stepped into the parking lot.

As my daughter’s screams faded behind me, I realized something frightening.

For four years, I had been holding up their lavish lifestyle with my tired hands, my time, and my fixed income.

Now I was finally taking my life back.

And they had no idea what would happen when morning came.

I boarded a city bus without knowing exactly where I was going.

My phone buzzed continuously in my coat pocket.

Stephanie called fourteen times before I finally answered.

“Where the hell are you?” she shouted so loudly that the speaker vibrated. “I had to abandon three full carts of food at the register, and Clinton’s boss is coming over with no dinner prepared!”

“Then you will just have to cook something yourself,” I replied calmly.

A stunned silence followed before she found her voice.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” she demanded.

“I am simply tired, Stephanie.”

“And where exactly do you plan to sleep tonight? Because if you do not get back here right this minute, I am changing the locks on the front door!”

I watched streetlights flash past the bus window.