"Dad, Mom, Fiona is wonderful." Adrian placed a choice piece of meat in my bowl. "This was my fault. I didn't consider her feelings enough. It won't happen again."
He was doing it again. Covering everything with a veneer of perfection, making me look like the unreasonable, hysterical wife.
"Fiona."
Under the table, my mother's leg nudged mine. A silent command to apologize. To be *grateful*.
I looked at the three of them—a happy family tableau built on lies.
I set my chopsticks down with a sharp *clack*.
"Drop the act, Adrian."
I met his gaze without blinking.
"Aren't you exhausted?"
"Mom. Dad."
My hands trembled in my lap, but my voice stayed steady. "I am still getting this divorce. I only came back so you could witness it with your own eyes."
The smiles vanished from their faces.
"Fiona! How can you be so ungrateful?" my father snapped. "Adrian has—"
"Mom, Dad, please go home first." Adrian's calm voice cut through the tension. "There is a misunderstanding between Fiona and me. I need to explain it to her."
He ushered them out. Charming. Respectful. The perfect son-in-law until the elevator doors closed.
He turned.
He shut the door.
The lock clicked.
The warmth evaporated from the room.
"Fiona."