"I'm her family. Which is more than you've ever been."
Trisha's face goes red.
"Family? You've known her for what, five minutes? We've been friends for years."
"Friends don't tear each other down," Ulf says. "Friends don't make each other feel worthless. Whatever you two are, it's not friends."
"Oh, please." Angela drains her mimosa. "We're the only friends Ingrid has. The only ones who stuck around when everyone else got tired of her drama."
"That's not—" I start.
"It is." Angela's eyes are hard. "You think anyone else would put up with you? With your issues? Your baggage? Your constant need for validation?"
"Gunnar does."
"Gunnar doesn't know you yet. Not really. Give it time. He'll figure out what you are eventually."
"And what's that?"
"A mess." She shrugs. "A broken, needy mess who's only good for one thing. And even that gets old after a while. Just ask Njal. Ask Bjorn. Ask anyone who's ever been stupid enough to think you were worth the effort."
The words should hurt.
A month ago, they would have.
A month ago, they would have sent me spiraling into self-doubt and self-hatred and every dark thought I've ever had about myself.
But that was before.
Before Gunnar.
Before I learned what real love looks like.
Before I realized that people like Trisha and Angela say cruel things because they're empty inside and need to fill that emptiness with other people's pain.
"You're wrong," I say quietly.
"About what?"
"About all of it. About me. About Gunnar. About what I'm worth." I take a breath. "I spent years believing the things you said about me. Believing I was broken. Believing I was too much. Believing no one would ever love me enough to stay."
"Because it's true?—"
"It's not." My voice is stronger now. "It was never true. I just believed it because you kept saying it. Because it was easier to agree with you than to fight back. But I'm done agreeing. I'm done letting you make me feel small. And I'm done pretending we were ever really friends."
Trisha's face twists.
"You ungrateful bitch. After everything we did for you?—"
"What did you do for me? Besides tear me down and make me feel worthless? Besides encourage every self-destructive impulse I had? Besides use me as a punching bag whenever you needed to feel better about your own pathetic lives?"
"How dare you?—"
"I dare because it's true. And deep down, you know it." I step forward, and to my satisfaction, Trisha steps back. "I'm leaving. I'm taking my stuff, and I'm walking out that door, and I'm never coming back. And you can say whatever you want about me after I'm gone. I don't care anymore. Your opinions don't matter to me."
"You'll regret this," Angela hisses. "When Gunnar figures out what you really are?—"
"He already knows what I am. He's known for years. And he loves me anyway. That's the difference between him and every guy I’ve ever been with. He sees me—really sees me—and he stays."
