“Richard,” Margaret whispered, tugging at her husband’s sleeve.

Richard stood up slowly, his joints popping in the quiet room.

He looked at Daniel, but Daniel was staring at the carpet.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, Emily,” Richard said.

“I made my mistake seven years ago when I married into this family,” I said. “I am simply correcting it.”

I stood by the archway, waiting.

Margaret gathered her leather handbag from the console table.

They walked past me without making eye contact.

The front door opened and closed a second time.

The house felt larger now, and much colder.

Daniel remained on the sofa, his head in his hands.

The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was the only sound.

“What am I supposed to do?” Daniel asked, his voice muffled.

“You can start by moving your things,” I said.

He looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

“What?”

“You are sleeping in the guest room at the end of the hall,” I said.

“Emily, please,” he said. “We can talk about this. We can find a way to fix it.”