Skyler's POV
“No.”
Just one word. Cold. Final.
I stared at Robert, trying to register what he just said. “What do you mean no?”
He didn’t flinch. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Like I just asked him to hand over a kidney, not for a divorce.
“I’m not signing anything,” he said. “This is your family. You’re not walking away from it.”
“Robert, I am miserable.” My voice cracked. “You know that, don’t you? Ethan barely talks to me. You treat me like a…like a ghost in my own damn house. I’m done pretending this is normal.”
“You’re his mother. You don’t get to be just …done.”
He said it like it was obvious. Like it was law.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “So what, I’m supposed to just keep playing house while you two pretend I don’t exist? Let Ethan glare at me like I ruined his life? Let you dismiss me every time I speak?”
“You are his mother,” he repeated, slower this time, like I was stupid. “He needs you.”
I laughed. Sharp. Bitter. “He doesn’t want me. You made sure of that.”
Robert’s eyes narrowed, but I wasn’t done.
“I’m not happy here. I haven’t been in years. I’m trying to leave before I become someone I don’t recognize…before I start screaming in the middle of dinner or throwing plates just to feel something.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t up for debate, Skyler.”
“I’m not asking for permission!”
“You should have thought about that before marrying me,” he snapped. And just like that, he left his coat from the hook by the door. “I’ve got a meeting. We’ll talk later.”
“I’m telling you I want out!”
But he was already halfway out the door. He didn’t even look back.
The door slammed. And I stood there. Frozen. Breathing too fast. Too loud.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream, or cry, or tear the pictures off the walls.
Instead, I whispered, to no one at all, “He really thinks he owns me.”
And for the first time in a long time, I felt somethig for Robert.
Anger. A strong sense of it.
***
I stood there for what felt like hours after the door slammed shut.
Screw him.
I moved to the dinning room where I practice the same routine e everyday. Smile. Set plates. Serve food no one asked for. Be invisible unless something was missing.
Ethan was already at the table, fork in hand, not eating. Just waiting. And when he looked up, it wasn’t surprise on his face.
It was contempt.
He didn’t speak. Just stared, eyes hard and sharp…like his father’s. Like he had been learning from him. I tried to meet his gaze, tried to find that little boy who used to fall asleep on my chest, drool and all. But he was gone.
“You’re late,” he muttered.
I bit my tongue. Counted to three. “Dinner isn’t even served yet.”
He shrugged. “Still late.”
Before I could respond…before I could remind him I wasn’t his maid, the doorbell rang.
The maid, Elena, appeared and scurried to the door.
And then she walked in.
Long brown coat. Heels clicking too loudly on the floor.
“Lila!” Ethan shot up from his chair. “You came!”
He ran to her. Ran. Wrapped his arms around her waist like she was his actual mother and not the stranger Robert had paraded around.
“I love when you’re here,” Ethan beamed.
Lila gave him a dramatic kiss on the cheek. “Aww, baby, I missed you too.”
My throat closed.
She looked up then. Saw me. Smiled wider, like we were old friends. “Skyler. You look... tired.”
I stared at her. Then at Ethan. Then back at her.
This wasn’t just disrespect. This was war.
Robert brought her here. Again. Here. Into my home. Our home. With no warning, no shame, no care for what that would do to me.
“You’re not welcome here,” I said with a low voice.
She laughed. “Oh, honey, Robert invited me.”
Of course he did.
She walked past me, and sat in my seat.
My spot. At the head of the table.
“Robert.” I called his attention to it.
“What?!” He snapped at me. "Just let her in."
