As Archie led me toward the stairs, Muriel’s voice floated behind us, icy again.“You think this ends differently for you, Archie?”
We stopped.
I felt him go still beside me.
Slowly, he turned.
Not defensive.
Not emotional.
Controlled.
“You don’t have to be here,” he said evenly.
Muriel blinked.
“This house,” he continued, voice calm and cutting, “this marriage, this family — none of it is something you’re forced to endure.”
A muscle ticked in her jaw.
“You chose this,” he went on. “You always have.”
Jeremy shifted slightly but didn’t interrupt.
Archie didn’t raise his voice.
“You chose to stay. You chose to leave. You chose to send me away to schools you didn’t want to attend events at.” His tone didn’t change, but something underneath it did — somethingold and bruised and finished. “You’ve always had the option to walk.”
Muriel’s composure flickered.
“And since you’ve most often spent your time choosing to be somewhere else,” Archie added coolly, “you’re welcome to revert to form.”
The words landed like a slap.
Even Maddy looked momentarily stunned.
Muriel went pale.
Then flushed.
“You ungrateful—” she began.
“No,” Archie cut in. “I’m informed.”
The silence in the room thickened.
I felt something twist painfully in my chest.
Because this wasn’t rage.
This was resignation.
Muriel’s eyes slid to me.
And there it was.
The blade.
