Chapter 3

At dinner, Mom kept piling food onto Piper's and Ethan's plates.

Piper had one foot propped carelessly on the edge of her chair, her shorts riding up to show off a pair of dazzlingly pale legs.

I frowned. "Put your leg down. That's not how you sit at the table."

The words had barely left my mouth when Mom snapped at me. "Stop acting like you're her teacher. It's not a big deal."

Ethan put a piece of meat on my plate. "I read online that sitting like that is a sign of poor circulation. Don't give her a hard time."

Piper nodded eagerly. "Exactly. Mara's so mean."

They played off each other perfectly, and somehow I ended up looking like the unreasonable one.

For years, Mom had favored Piper and her father, Frank. I'd long since gotten used to it.

But tonight was the first time Ethan had taken their side against me.

Mom turned to Piper. "Your dorm is so rundown you can't rest properly. Why don't you move in with your sister? The guest room's empty anyway, and she can cook for you."

"I have to prep lessons, teach, and write papers every day. I'm busy. I don't have time to take care of her," I said, holding myself back.

"You teach humanities. How busy can you be? It's not like your work takes any brains."

Piper's eyes flicked toward Ethan.

Mom followed her lead and looked at him too. "Ethan, what do you think?"

Ethan looked up. His voice was gentle, but every word cut into me. "Whatever Mom thinks is best."

The instant he finished speaking, the number above his head went into free fall.

My stomach churned. I slammed down my fork and stood up. "The apartment's in my name. I don't agree, and nobody is moving in."

"What are you throwing a fit for?" Mom grabbed her plate and hurled it at me.

I couldn't dodge in time. It shattered, and a shard sliced the corner of my eye.

Ethan quickly set down his fork and got up to check the cut.

I heard Mom's voice.

"Ethan paid for that apartment in full.

"He only put it in your name because he cares about you. Don't push your luck."

Back then, I'd wanted to pay part of it, but Ethan wouldn't let me.

He said the apartment was my security in our marriage.

I looked at Ethan. He hadn't said a word the whole time. His silence agreed with every word she'd said.

I turned my face away from the hand checking my cut, and my voice went cold. "Fine. Then I'll move out."

Before anyone could stop me, I spun around and rushed out the door.

The cold wind whipped against the cut by my eye, and it stung unbearably.

Without thinking, I looked back. The stairwell was pitch black.

Ethan hadn't followed me.

I gripped my phone and called Richard Lewis, the mentor for a collaborative project I'd been invited to.

"Richard, are you still one person short on your project? Can I join?"

"With your teaching experience? Of course you can.

"But..."

He hesitated. "You won't be back for at least four or five years. Have you talked this over with Ethan?"

"I'm going."

Rather than watch our shelf life slide toward zero day after day, maybe leaving was the best way out.