"The arrangement was never the issue." My words fell between us like coins on marble. "The issue is that you already made your choice."
"She is not a replacement." The denial came too quickly, too practiced.
"Is that so?" I tilted my head, studying him as one might study a painting whose flaws had only just become visible. "Then why do you carry traces of her everywhere you go? Her perfume on your collar. Her name in your mouth before you catch yourself. Why do you draw closer to her with each passing day, while I stand here like furniture in your father's parlor—decorative, silent, and utterly irrelevant?"
His jaw tightened. "You're jealous. That's all this is."
I nodded slowly, offering him no argument. What was the point of fighting a verdict already rendered?
"Think whatever you want."
I rose from the settee, my movements unhurried, and walked toward the inner chamber. The door closed behind me with a soft, final click.
Not because my heart was broken.
Because I was certain.