the bills are due Friday.”

Marianne’s expression tightened.

“You have a job.”

“So does Faye.

We split things.”

“I thought you paid for most of this.”

Liam did not answer.

He had allowed his mother to believe that.

Whenever Marianne praised him for supporting Faye, he had never corrected her.

It made him feel successful and generous.

In reality, Faye earned slightly more than he did.

She paid half the rent, most of the groceries and nearly every unexpected expense because Liam was always waiting for his next paycheck.

Faye had never embarrassed him by mentioning it.

Marianne walked to the living room and looked around at the furniture.

“At least the place is furnished.”

“The couch is hers.”

She turned.

Liam checked the receipt folder in a kitchen drawer.

The couch, dining table and television stand had all been bought on Faye’s card.

She had left them temporarily because Nora’s car could not carry them, but a note inside the folder stated that movers would arrive Saturday morning.

Marianne read it twice.

“This is vindictive.”

“No,” Liam said.

“It’s her furniture.”

His mother stared at him as though he had betrayed her by admitting it.

At Nora’s apartment, Faye placed her suitcase in the guest room.

The room was small, with pale walls and a narrow bed, but the air felt clean.

Nothing in it carried the tension of waiting for Liam to return from his mother’s house in a bad mood.

Nora brought her tea.

“You can stay as long as you need,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to be strong tonight.”

Faye wrapped both hands around the mug.

“I don’t think I’m being strong.

I think I’m finished.”

Her phone lit again.

This time Liam had sent a message.

Please answer.

I didn’t mean it.

Mom was just trying to help.

Faye read the last sentence twice.

Even now, he was placing his mother between them like a shield.

Another message arrived.

You know how she is.

Faye typed a response, deleted it, then set the phone down.

She knew exactly how Marianne was.

The real problem was that Liam knew too—and had chosen to make Faye absorb the damage.

An hour later, he called again.

Faye answered only because she needed to arrange the furniture pickup.

“Faye?” His relief was immediate.

“Thank God.

Where are you?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Safe? Don’t make me sound dangerous.”

“You’re not dangerous, Liam.

You’re careless.”

He went quiet.

“Can you come home so we can talk?”

“I don’t live there anymore.”

“You can’t end three years over one sentence.”

“It wasn’t one sentence.”

“What does that mean?”

“It was every dinner where your mother insulted me and you studied your plate.

Every time you repeated one of her criticisms as though it were your own concern.

Every time you asked me to be patient because defending me made your life uncomfortable.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s exact.”

In the background, Marianne said, “Ask her when she’s bringing the couch back.”

Faye closed her eyes.

Liam lowered his voice.

“Mom’s upset.”

“I heard her.”

“She thinks you’re trying to punish me.”

“I’m removing myself from a relationship you said you couldn’t justify.”

“I was frustrated.”

“With what?”

He hesitated too long.

Faye waited.

Finally, Liam said, “Mom keeps asking what your