I Married a Blind Man So He’d Never See My Scars

In school.

At work.

In marriage.

In rooms where people louder than me decided my silence meant weakness.

“No more,” I whispered.

Then I stood, straightened my scrubs, picked up my clipboard, and walked to my next patient.

Margaret had tried to make me small one last time.

But this time, I didn’t disappear.

This time, I stayed standing.