As I pull the cheesecake from the oven, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon fills the kitchen. My hands tremble—this time, it must be perfect.

“Andrei! The guests are waiting!” His impatient voice echoes from the living room.

I slice the cheesecake carefully, remembering his past insults: *“Clumsy as always.”* Fresh raspberries garnish the top—no mistakes today.

Entering the room, his family greets me with forced smiles. Andrei’s grin cuts deep: *“Let’s hope she hasn’t ruined it again.”*

He takes a bite. Grimaces. *“Bone dry. Honestly, how hard is it to follow a simple recipe?”*

Laughter follows. My face burns. I don’t cry. Not this time.

That night, I stare at the mirror. Hollow eyes, slumped shoulders. *Where did the girl who believed in love go?*

From the living room: *“Ruined the cheesecake again.”*

Something snaps. Quiet. Irrevocable.

By morning, Andrei wakes strapped to the bed.

“Masha! Untie me!”

Calm for the first time in years, I whisper, *“Ten years of your cruelty. But I learned something in that time—how to make the perfect cheesecake.”*

As his fear grows, I pack my suitcase.

“You can’t leave! What will people say?”

I smile. *“Maybe your mother can teach you to bake.”*

Before leaving, I text his sister: *The key is under the mat.*

His voice fades behind the closing door. In the hallway mirror, I see someone new—bright-eyed, smiling. Free.

A week later, I sip hot chocolate in a Barcelona café. My phone buzzes:

*We’re interested in publishing your story.*

Months pass. I inherit a bakery, crafting perfect desserts for those who appreciate them.

One day, I spot a magazine: Andrei with his new girlfriend, the headline boasting: *A Businessman Reflects on His Mistakes.* I laugh, tossing it in the trash.

My phone rings.

“Maria, your book has inspired so many. Will you speak at our event?”

“Of course.”

That evening, I watch the sunset. For years, I lived for Andrei’s approval.

Now, I know better.

No dessert tastes sweeter than freedom.