On her 25th wedding anniversary, Ainsley finds a silk gown on the coffee table. She thinks it’s a gift from her husband. It’s actually for her best friend—his mistress of 25 years. He screams at her to strip it off. Then he slams her head into the table. “Lick the blood off the floor,” he orders. Her six-year-old grandson throws a milk bottle at her chest: “You’re just the maid.” Her son smirks in the doorway: “You don’t work. How else do you justify staying?” That night, Ainsley calls the one person she abandoned for love—a number she hasn’t dialed in 25 years. A low voice on the other end says, “I’ll arrange everything.” The next morning, Ainsley walks into the kitchen as usual and brews coffee for the whole family. Only this time, there’s a small, unreadable smile on her lips.
