She Was Sitting In My Front-Row Seat Holding My Novel — Smiling Like She Had Stolen My Life

The room held its breath.

Celeste’s voice shook when she began to read.

“I thought sitting in another woman’s chair would make me powerful.”

Her fingers tightened on the page.

“It only proved I had agreed to be furniture in a man’s story too.”

A sound moved through the room.

Not sympathy exactly.

Recognition.

Harder.

Older.

More dangerous.

I felt Anna’s hand continue reading …