We walked back inside together.
Derek was pacing near the table, his confidence cracking around the edges. The arrogance he usually wore like armor had slipped, and beneath it was something smaller.
Fear.
Fear mixed with ego.
“You really called your dad for this?” he snapped.
I looked at him, but I did not answer.
For once, I did not feel the need to defend myself.
My father stepped forward, not aggressively, but steadily.
“This isn’t about me,” he said. “This is about what you’ve done, and what she no longer has to tolerate.”
Linda stood in the corner, silent now.
Derek scoffed, desperate to regain control.
“She’s overreacting.”
“No,” I said.
My own voice surprised me.
It was not loud.
But it was firm.
“I’m done reacting,” I continued. “I’m choosing.”
The room went still.
“I’m leaving.”
