Canceling the Cards
My hands shook as I dialed the bank, heart thudding like a drum. Each beep of the keypad felt heavier than the last. When the agent picked up and started asking security questions, I answered with a strange, calm determination. My voice didn’t tremble — it was like something inside me had clicked.
“Cancel all his cards,” I told them, not flinching. There was no going back. I imagined him at some hotel front desk, trying to pay, only to be told his card was declined. It wasn’t much, but it was something — my first step in taking my power back.
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