Chapter 2

They came back hours later, long after I had cleaned up the dinner remnants and put away the leftover favors.

They were loud, laughing, their voices filling the quiet house. Chloe was in the middle of them, of course, looking radiant.

"Oh, Ellie, you're still up," my mother said, as if surprised to see me. She didn't apologize.

"We had the best time catching up in the car," Chloe said, dropping her designer bag on the floor. "I am absolutely starving, though. I missed your cooking so much, Ell. Could you make me that seafood risotto I love?"

I stared at her. "Chloe, it's after midnight."

"It's never too late for good food," Liam said, ruffling Chloe's hair. "Come on, Ellie. Don't be a party pooper."

Ethan stood beside Chloe, smiling down at her. He hadn't looked at me once since they walked in.

"I have a mild shellfish allergy," I said quietly. "My hands get swollen."

It was a fact they all knew.

Liam scoffed. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. A little rash won't kill you. Chloe's had a long flight."

My mother nodded in agreement. "Your brother is right. It's a small thing to do for your sister. She came all this way for your wedding."

I looked at Ethan, searching for support. He just gave me a tight smile. "It would mean a lot to her, Ellie."

My heart felt like a cold, hard stone in my chest.

I went into the kitchen without another word. I cooked the risotto. The steam from the shrimp and scallops made my eyes water. By the time I was done, my hands were red and puffy, an angry itch spreading up my arms.

I served the risotto and they ate it, praising Chloe's stories about Los Angeles. No one mentioned my hands. No one said thank you.

I went back to my room. The itching was unbearable, but the numbness inside was worse.

I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. I pulled up the saved application page. It was for a highly competitive federal judicial clerkship in Washington D.C. A dream I had put on hold. For Ethan. For my family. For a life that was clearly a lie.

I reviewed the essays I had written months ago, my fingers stiff and clumsy on the keyboard.

Then I clicked "Submit."

A small confirmation message appeared on the screen. "Your application has been received."

I felt nothing. Just a quiet, clean emptiness.

They thought I was being compliant. They thought my silence was acceptance.

They were wrong. I was just done fighting a battle I could never win. I was planning my surrender, but on my own terms.