The silence in this flat is both my sanctuary and my prison. Four months since the divorce papers were signed and I'm still getting used to the sound of my own breathing. Sometimes I catch myself staring at the empty side of the bed, remembering how his body used to warm the sheets. Now it's just me, my vibrator, and the ghost of what used to be.

But you know what? There's something liberating about being able to scream my own name during orgasm without worrying about waking anyone. About being able to leave my toys scattered across the nightstand without judgment. About exploring every inch of my pussy without feeling like I need to perform for anyone but myself.

Divorce broke me, but it also gave me permission to rediscover what makes Samantha... Samantha. And honestly? I'm starting to like her.