I stood frozen on the porch, my hand trembling in Chris’s, dreading the moment I’d meet his parents. All my fears about not being good enough came rushing back as I stared at the door to their perfect suburban home. That night, I’d learn just how brittle the illusion of a perfect family can be—and how deeply our scars can run.
I am Emily Carter, a 27-year-old marketing specialist living in bustling Chicago. On the surface, my life looks perfect—a loving husband, a good job, an apartment with a city view. But beneath it all, I’m suffocating under the pressure to be flawless for everyone but myself.
My name is Emily Carter. I always believed my life was just fine, even if it didn’t look like everyone else’s. In the end, I learned how lonely ‘perfect’ can really feel.
