"I'm sure," I say.
Ragon nods approvingly. "Good. It's nice to see you two working together."
Working together.
As if this is collaboration and not me giving up every piece of territory I have left because fighting for it brought me pain and isolation.
"I was thinking," Marie says a few days later, "we should rearrange the pantry again. Group things by meal type instead of ingredient type. It would make cooking easier."
She's looking at me when she says it. Waiting.
The old Vee would have argued. Would have pointed out thatI'mthe one who cooks most of the meals andIorganized it the way that makes sense formyprocess.
The current Vee knows that argument ends with Ragon's voice going cold and another week added to the ban that no longer feels like a ban. It’s more of a way of life by now.
"Sure," I say. "That makes sense."
Her smile widens. "Really? You think so?"
"Yeah. Meal type. Smart."
"Great! I'll start on it this afternoon." She pauses. "Unless you want to help?"
"You've got it."
She practically glows.
Ragon, reading his tablet at the table, glances up. His gaze moves between us, then settles on me with something that looks like approval.
See? his expression says.This is what I wanted. Cooperation. Harmony.
He thinks he fixed me.
He thinks the punishment worked.
He doesn't realize I've just learned that having opinions is dangerous and keeping my mouth shut means fewer painful corrections.
Eli looks like he's being punished too.
I come into the kitchen one afternoon for water and find him already there, scrolling through something on his tablet.
"Hey," he says softly. "Hydration break?"
"Yeah. Trying not to mummify."
He huffs a laugh. It dies quickly.
I get a glass, turn on the tap. Cold water, no thoughts.
"What are you working on?"
"Budget. Jasper eats a lot."
"That explains the third loaf of bread."
"Among other things."
I turn, glass in hand.
