She stared at him for a long moment.
Then she said, “Then don’t.”
The room went quiet.
Even my mother looked stunned.
Sylas laughed.
“You serious right now?”
Elowen’s hands trembled.
But she did not look away.
“The kids and I are going.”
“And me?”
“If you can follow the rules, you can come.”
He stared at her like she had started speaking another language.
“You’re choosing some shelter over me?”
“No,” she said. “I’m choosing beds over the car.”
I wanted to cheer.
I wanted to hug her.
I wanted to ask why it had taken so long.
Instead, I held the baby tighter and said nothing.
Because some moments are too fragile for applause.
Sylas left.
He did it with noise, of course.
A slammed door.
A muttered insult.
A dramatic promise that everyone would regret disrespecting him.
Nobody followed.
Not even my mother.
