35. Sunny
I should have known today would be a special day.
As soon as I stepped outside, I was met with bright, warm sunshine. It’s not quite spring yet, and Chicago’s been gray and gloomy for weeks. But this morning, it’s sunny, just like the day I was born—exactly twenty-eight years ago.
It’s the perfect birthday gift.
The change in weather would have been enough to please me, but when I get to work and check my email, I have a message from Northwestern’s graduate admissions office.
I got in.
I’ve been accepted to their MFA program, which begins in the fall.
I’m on cloud nine. This is something I’ve wanted for years, but I let my mom talk me out of it, and I chose to go to law school out of fear rather than passion.
Knowing that I’m finally going to pursue my dream is the best feeling in the world.
Now all I have to do is tell my fiancé that I’ll be quitting my job—well, switching careers, more accurately—and going back to graduate school.
He doesn’t even know I applied. I decided it would be best to wait and see if I was admitted to the program before rocking the boat.
I never told him I thought I was pregnant either.
Because I wasn’t pregnant—I was unwittingly starving myself. And my periods stopping was the wake-up call I needed to make some necessary changes in my life.
Maybe the reason I was so scared at the idea of having a baby back then was because I’d completely lost sight of who I was. Who I am . And I don’t want to bring a child into this world until I can answer that question without hesitation.
Over the past five months since my doctor’s visit, I’ve been working on that.
For one thing, I look like myself again.
I’ve been growing out my hair and wearing it curly, despite Jeremy dropping not-so-subtle hints—like gift cards to my salon for straightening treatments—to let me know where he stands on the matter.
Since he’s decided to be passive-aggressive, I thank him for the certificates and quietly exchange them for conditioning treatments.
Thanks to Jeremy, my curls have never looked better.
I’ve been eating three meals a day, plus snacks—work be damned.
If a partner has to wait ten minutes for me to finish a sandwich, then so be it.
None of my expensive tailored suits fit me anymore, and I couldn’t be happier.
I bought myself new clothes that look good on me and are comfortable.
I walk to work in sneakers and leave my Jimmy Choos in my office now.
Best of all, my blood pressure is back to normal. Not because I hate my job any less, but because I’m not desperately trying to be someone I’m not anymore.
For the past five months, since I started my graduate school application, I’ve felt like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.
I don’t let work get to me as much, because now I know this job is temporary.
As soon as I applied to Northwestern, it was like a switch flipped in my head.
Regardless of whether or not I got into the program, I’d made up my mind that I was going to quit law. And I’ve never felt better.
I’ve spent nearly three miserable years as a lawyer. But the silver lining is that I saved enough money to pay for the MFA program myself.
This time, no one can stop me.
Not my mom.
Not even Jeremy. Although I’m certain he’ll try.
I know he’s stubborn, but if he loves me as much as he says, he should at least understand that I need to prioritize my health.
Although I must admit…when my doctor put me on medical leave for my blood pressure in the fall, Jeremy’s initial reaction wasn’t concern.
He was angry. As if my body’s stress response made me weak—or a failure.
“Are you kidding me, Sunny?” he said with a look of total disappointment on his face. “You let yourself get worked up over nothing, and it’s going to kill your goddamn career. What a fucking waste of talent.”
I felt like a good kid being scolded for a bad grade in school.
But when I told him that yelling at me definitely wasn’t helping my blood pressure, he mellowed out a bit.
It was a rough three weeks for us while I was on medical leave, but I was so excited about secretly working on my writing sample that I didn’t care as much about his moods.
In any event, when I returned to work a much calmer and happier version of Sunny than he’d seen in a while, he pulled a 180 and became sweet Jeremy again. Maybe he figured a short break from work was all I needed to get back on track as a litigator.
Whatever he was thinking, I guess I’ll find out tonight.
Jeremy wants to take me to an upscale sushi restaurant to celebrate my birthday. The maki rolls and sashimi are delicious, as are the fancy cocktails, and my fiancé is in a great mood. We’re laughing and flirting—and for a minute, I consider telling him about Northwestern right here and now.
Maybe he won’t react so badly if we’re out in public, I think to myself.
But if I’m to be my authentic self, then I need to know the man I’m marrying as well. All of him . Not just the performance he puts on when it suits him.
I learned that from Dex.
When I watched his Oscar speech the other week, I sobbed.
Thank goodness I was home alone. Jeremy was at the office prepping for trial.
For one thing, my heart broke because Dex told me he’d gotten help for his anxiety years ago—and I chose to believe him.
I mean, he’s an incredible actor, obviously.
But I think, deep down, I knew he wasn’t being honest. It was just easier to take his word for it, because I’d broken up with him, and we were miles apart. I wasn’t in a position to help him.
I’m wracked with guilt over it. And I’m so sad he suffered in silence for as long as he did.
But the impact he’s making on the world is nothing short of heroic. The media’s reporting that therapists are experiencing a boom in business—particularly those who work with men and boys, who are less likely to seek help than their female counterparts.
And what I find most inspiring is that Dex isn’t hiding under a mask and a cape to make the world a better place. He’s doing it by being himself .
I keep that in mind when Jeremy and I get home from dinner, and he’s leading me to the bedroom.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about first,” I say as soon as he turns to kiss me.
“Okay,” he says pulling back. He goes to sit on the bed, and I follow him.
“When I was on medical leave for my blood pressure…I decided to apply to Northwestern’s MFA program,” I tell him. “Today, I found out I got in.”
His brow is furrowed. He inches away from me on the bed. “You did what ?” he asks. “ Why ?”
“Jeremy, I picked the wrong career. Law isn’t for me. I put in three years, and the high-stress nature of the job made me sick. I don’t want to find out what happens if I stick it out any longer. It’s no one’s fault…it’s just a fact. Being an attorney is not the right fit for me.”
He scoffs. “It’s no one’s fault? Wow, Sunny, way to shirk any responsibility for your life.
Our life. We’re getting married in three months, for fuck’s sake!
And you’re going to sit here and tell me you’re changing careers—to something completely fucking impractical, by the way—and you want me to, what…
support this harebrained decision? Bankroll you, so you can play in never-never land, while I bust my ass with a real job? ”
I expected him to be argumentative, and I’m prepared to hold my ground. “I don’t need your money, Jeremy. I have enough saved up to pay for grad school myself. But I do need your support. This career made me physically ill. Is that really the life you want for me?”
He stands and paces back and forth in front of me. “So you hate litigation—fine. Pick a different area of law, then. Write contracts or some shit. I don’t care?—”
“You said it yourself in law school—that would bore me to tears. I don’t want to write contracts, Jeremy. I want to write novels. Beautiful, sweeping love stories that make people laugh, and cry…and maybe even inspire them to live a more authentic life.”
He smirks. “You want to write romance , Sunny. People won’t get anything out of your books but a cheap thrill.
It’s fucking embarrassing. How am I supposed to introduce you to people now?
When we’re at work events, should I say, ‘Hey, this is my extremely intelligent and talented wife who used to be a successful attorney, but gave it all up to be the next Danielle Steel?’”
“Do not talk shit about Danielle Steel,” I warn. “And why is keeping up appearances more important to you than the health and well-being of the woman you love?”
He stops pacing and faces me. “The woman I love isn’t here anymore, Sunny!” he yells, his hands in the air. “Don’t you see? The woman I fell for was at the top of her class in law school. A star legal researcher and writer. Someone who cared about her fucking appearance?—”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jeremy stands with his hands on his hips. “How much weight have you put on these last few months, Sunny?”
My palm flies to my gut, as though he really punched me.
“ Fuck you,” I say, my voice shaking.
I’ve never said those words to anyone.
I stand and walk to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between us as possible.
“I was anemic…my periods stopped…I was barely a hundred pounds.” My eyes fill with tears.
“But…that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to be small.
You want me to be meek. You belittle me, and criticize me when I don’t live up to your expectations…
you prey on my insecurities, so you can control me?—”
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”
“And now you’re gaslighting me! I can’t believe I didn’t see it before…”
“See what?” he says, lunging toward me. My back is to the wall and he’s an inch away from my face.
“You’re a goddamn narcissist,” I tell him, my chest heaving against his. “I’m just grateful you showed me who you really are before I married you.”
I take off my enormous diamond ring and put it on top of the dresser beside me. His icy gaze follows my hand, then works its way back to my face.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.
“You never loved me , Jeremy. You loved the fantasy of being with this straight-haired, stick-thin, high-powered litigator in designer clothes, because it fed your ego. But that’s not the real me. I will never live up to your fantasy—nor do I want to.”
“You really think you’re going to leave me?” He grinds his teeth. “You have nowhere to go, Sunny. No friends. Who took you to go pick out your wedding dress, huh? Me . Who do you spend every fucking minute of your life with? Me. You have nothing without me.”
Shit . He’s not wrong. I’ve been living in Chicago nearly three years and don’t have a single friend here. I’ll have to go to a hotel tonight.
“Was that part of your grand plan too?” I ask him. “To isolate me so I had no one to run to when I saw your true colors? Or to keep me away from anyone who could help me see what a fucking asshole you are?”
I look into his cold, hard eyes, and I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. There’s no trace of anything familiar on his face. He isn’t Jekyll, or Hyde—or even Jeremy. The man I thought I knew is gone.
I shiver when he leans in to whisper in my ear. “I’ve got news for you, Sunny. I hope you’re not thinking of running back to Mr. Hollywood, because you’re going to be shit out of luck if you do…”
Then he says something so lewd, so vile…
I want to wipe my memory clean of it. But the gist of it was this—first, he tried to humiliate me by body-shaming me.
Then he reminded me that Dex can have any woman he wants, including Ava Elwood.
And I’d be lucky if he gave me the time of day anymore, much less touch me ever again.
I want to slap him.
But I don’t—because he’ll enjoy it. He’ll love the fact that he got under my skin, and it’ll only make that smug grin of his even wider.
So I finish this chapter of my life with the truth instead. “I’m not leaving you for Dex,” I say calmly. “I’m leaving you for myself . Because I deserve so much better.”
A giant weight lifts off my shoulders as I push past him and throw some of my things into a duffel.
I don’t acknowledge him when he yells at me.
I don’t respond when he changes his tune and begs me to forgive him.
I pack what I need as quickly as I can.
I tell him I’ll send someone to pick up the rest.
And then I leave.