His voice softens.
“That’s not survival. That’s cowardice.”
The words hit hard.
Violently.
I want to argue.
Tell him he’s wrong.
But nothing comes out.
“Think carefully, Mary. Sometimes you don’t get back what you walk away from.”
Then he disappears down the hallway.
I stay frozen on the staircase, my heartbeat suddenly too fast.
No.
He’s wrong.
I’m not a coward.
I’m practical.
I’m protecting my heart.
I’m making responsible adult decisions.
I straighten my shoulders and keep walking with renewed determination.
Which lasts approximately thirty seconds.
“Mary, darling!” Maggie calls warmly from down the corridor. “I’m so glad to see you this morning.”
I turn and find my grandmother standing in the doorway of the dining room.
“Morning, Gran.”
“Come join us. We haven’t had breakfast together in ages.”
Clearly, this is not a request.
I follow her into the dining room and immediately pour myself coffee exactly the way I like it: too much sugar and a splash of cream.
The room is already occupied.
Maggie presides at the head of the table, naturally, while Jamison pours tea nearby and Mrs. Finley carries in pastries fresh from the oven.
“You look beautiful this morning,” Maggie says. “Special occasion?”
Her eyes sparkle with curiosity.
I take a sip of coffee.
“I have an interview.”
