Chapter 3

Two hours of highway later, we pulled into the old place in the country.

We hadn't even set the bags down before Edward's parents watched Charlie and me climb out of a car they'd never seen, and both of them frowned.

"Another car?" Edward's father, Samuel, said. "What's wrong with Edward's?"

Edward's mother, Olivia folded her arms. "You two need to stop throwing money around."

If Edward had ever handed me his keys, I wouldn't have been on a scooter every day of my life.

His parents knew that. It had never once bothered them.

Charlie had been up since dawn and stuck in a car seat for hours, and he couldn't stop yawning.

Arguing with them wasn't worth it. "Understood," I said.

"Fine," Olivia, said. "Go get something on the table."

Every visit ended the same way, whether it was a weekend, Thanksgiving, or Christmas, with me scrubbing the floors, cooking the meals, and washing every dish.

The work had somehow become mine by default.

"Olivia, I drove two hours to get here. I'm wiped out, and I'm not cooking," I said, straight out for once.

Samuel and Olivia stared at me.

Edward looked at me like he'd misheard.

Every other visit I'd picked up the whole house before anyone had to ask, and the change hung there in the room.

I took Charlie's hand before they found their voices. "If nobody's cooking, I'll drive him into town for lunch."

Charlie clapped. "Yes! I want a burger!"

Their faces went dark.

Edward lowered his voice. "What's gotten into you?"

He'd probably never watched me push back before, and none of it made sense to him.

"Nothing. I don't feel like cooking," I said.

The pattern never changed. I got up at dawn, spent two hours in the car, and arrived to a house that had been waiting for me to cook the first meal of the day.

I'd swallowed all of it for one reason only, and that reason was that I loved Edward.

Once the loving stopped, so did the swallowing.

"Don't make a scene. We're only here once a week. We can't go eat somewhere else," Edward said.

He hadn't come close to understanding why I wanted out of that house.

I was past caring. I walked Charlie to the car. "Samuel, Olivia, if there's never a hot meal waiting when we come, we'll stop coming."

I didn't wait to see their faces. I started the engine and pulled out.

Having my own car felt better than I'd expected. I could go anywhere I wanted, whenever I decided to go.

I drove Charlie into town for burgers and ordered the biggest family meal on the menu.

Charlie was glowing. "Mom, you were so cool back there. I like you like this."

So this was the version of me my son had been waiting for.

I smiled and meant every word of it. "Then this is who I'm going to be."

We ate until neither of us could manage another bite, and then I drove us home.

My phone buzzed the moment we walked in. Edward had sent money.

A transfer of 17 thousand dollars, with a note attached: [A preschool salary doesn't stretch far. This is for the car.]

Another message followed it.

[Edward: I'm sorry about yesterday. You and Charlie shouldn't have been out in that rain. I'll do better next time.]

An apology that arrived a day late bought him nothing.

Edward had built a career out of cases where sorry fixed nothing. If the word had that kind of power, nobody would've needed a lawyer.

Seven years of marriage had handed me more small nights like that one than I could count.

His parents had come at me again that morning, and he'd stood exactly where he always stood, which was nowhere near me.

I was tired all the way down.

I sent the money back and kept my reply polite.

I sent: [No need. Thank you.]

That was when the old line finally made sense to me. Nobody had ever stood further from me than Edward.