I stood frozen in our kitchen, my fingers gripping the edge of the granite countertop as if it could somehow anchor me against the words Brady had just spoken.
"It's just temporary, Athena," my husband said, his tone casual as if he were discussing weekend plans rather than inviting his ex-girlfriend to live with us. "Evangeline and her daughter need somewhere to stay until she gets back on her feet after the divorce."
I searched his face for any sign that he understood the magnitude of what he was asking. At thirty-eight, Brady still had the same boyish charm that had made me fall for him when we were eighteen, but right now, all I could see was his complete dismissal of my feelings.
"Brady, I don't think this is appropriate," I said carefully, measuring my words. "Having your ex-girlfriend move into our home with her daughter... how will that affect Jolie?"
He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "She has nowhere else to go, Athena. What am I supposed to do, leave them on the street? Evangeline was an important part of my life once."
"And I'm your wife now," I whispered, the words feeling hollow even as I spoke them.
Brady stepped forward, placing his hands on my shoulders. "It's the right thing to do. Besides, you're always saying we should teach Jolie to help others in need."
The manipulation in his words stung. Somehow, he'd turned my compassion against me, making me feel selfish for objecting.
"How long?" I asked, already feeling defeat settling in my chest.
"Just until she finds a new place. A month, maybe two at most."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without tears. I'd spent ten years being the understanding wife, the peacemaker, the one who bent so our family wouldn't break. One more sacrifice wouldn't kill me.
I was wrong.
---
Three days later, I opened our front door to find Evangeline Morris standing there with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was exactly as Brady had described her—tall, blonde, and striking. Behind her stood a girl about Jolie's age, with the same calculating look as her mother.
"Athena!" Evangeline exclaimed, leaning in to hug me before I could step back. "You're so kind to welcome us into your home. Brady always said you had the biggest heart."
I forced a smile. "Please, come in."
Brady appeared behind me, his face lighting up in a way I hadn't seen in years. "Evangeline! And this must be Brittany! My God, you've grown so much."
He embraced them both while I stood awkwardly in my own foyer, suddenly feeling like the outsider.
"I'll show you to the guest rooms," I offered, but Evangeline was already moving past me.
"Oh, don't worry, Brady already gave me a virtual tour on FaceTime. I know my way around."
FaceTime tours? When had that happened?
Within an hour, Evangeline had rearranged my kitchen cabinets, explaining that it was "more efficient this way." When I went to prepare dinner, I couldn't find anything.
"Looking for these?" she asked, reaching past me to a shelf where my cooking spices had never been. "I noticed you keep your kitchen a bit... differently than most people. I thought I'd help organize."
"I had a system," I said quietly.
"Of course you did, sweetie," she replied with a patronizing smile. "But this makes more sense, don't you think? Brady always said you weren't much of a cook anyway."
The comment sliced through me. Cooking was one of the few things I took pride in.
By dinner time, Jolie had come home from her friend's house, her eyes wide with confusion at the strangers sitting at our dining table.
"Jolie, these are our guests, Ms. Morris and Brittany," I explained, pulling out her chair. "They'll be staying with us for a little while."
"Where will they sleep?" Jolie asked innocently.
"In the blue guest room," Brady answered, serving Evangeline before anyone else. "And Brittany will be in the small guest room next to it."
"But that's where I do my art," Jolie said, her voice small.
"We can move your art supplies to the basement for now," Brady replied dismissively.
Brittany looked directly at Jolie, her chin raised. "Your dad says I can use your bike while I'm here too, since you hardly ever ride it."
Jolie looked at me, hurt flickering across her face. I opened my mouth to object, but Brittany wasn't finished.
"Uncle Brady has always been more like a dad to me than anyone else," she announced proudly. "My mom says we're practically family already."
Evangeline smiled approvingly at her daughter while Brady beamed, oblivious to the pain on Jolie's face—or mine.
"That's... that's not accurate, Brittany," I said carefully. "Brady is Jolie's father."
"Well, there's enough of me to go around," Brady laughed, ruffling Brittany's hair.
Across the table, my daughter's eyes filled with tears as she watched her father embrace another child's claim on him, and I felt something inside me begin to crack.
