The Price of a Mother's Smile

"Juliet, don't make this harder than it has to be."

I sighed. Ten days. That's all that was left. I could indulge him for ten more days.

I gave a slight, silent nod.

"Sienna will stay in the guest room," Grayson said, a clumsy attempt to smooth things over. "You should get some rest."

The moment the door clicked shut, I sank onto the bed.

A sliver of moonlight cut through the curtains, illuminating a dusty photo frame on the nightstand.

In the picture, Grayson was giving me a piggyback ride on a beach in Santorini. A wave had just soaked my dress, and he’d turned his head, laughing. "Hold on tight, Mrs. Prescott!"

Seven years of love. It felt as solid as a mountain and as fragile as glass.

I pulled out my phone and sent a message: [The plan is on. Pick me up in ten days.]

Just as I hit send, the sound of shattering glass echoed from downstairs.

I went down to see Genevieve being pushed into the foyer in her wheelchair by Sienna. A team of movers followed, carrying boxes and luggage.

"Well, look who decided to come down," Genevieve said, her eyelids heavy with disdain. "I thought you planned to hide in your room all night."

Sienna stood beside her, holding a cup of herbal tea. "Genevieve just finished her physical therapy," she said sweetly. "The doctor said she needs to be more active."

"Physical therapy?" My eyes dropped to her legs.

Genevieve patted her own knee smugly. "Surprised? The doctor says I'm making a wonderful recovery. I should be back on my feet in no time."

She gestured upstairs. "Sienna is staying with us now. It'll be easier for her to take care of me. Your opinion on the matter is irrelevant."

I said nothing, just turned my head and met Grayson's gaze with a faint smile.

He cleared his throat. "Juliet already agreed," he said in a low voice.

Genevieve froze, then let out a grunt. "Hmph. About time she learned her place."

Sienna immediately beamed, linking her arm with Genevieve's.

"Genevieve, let me help get your things upstairs."

Genevieve patted her hand. "Go on. Pick any room you like."

Sienna's eyes lit up. She hurried upstairs, and moments later, a loud crash echoed from the second floor.

I looked up. Sienna was directing the staff to take down my photography wall.

That wall was a map of the world Grayson and I had explored together, from the Northern Lights in Iceland to the deserts of Morocco.

"Ugh, these are so gloomy. They totally clash with the aesthetic we're going for now," Sienna chirped, tossing a frame aside with a dismissive flick of her wrist. Then she pointed to a large group photo. "Take that one down, too. It's an eyesore."

One by one, the photos came down, including a shot from our small wedding in Central Park.

Grayson stood at the top of the stairs, his brow furrowed. He looked like he wanted to protest, but instead, his eyes found mine. "Just… let her. We can hang them back up later."

I smiled and said nothing.

Sienna peeked over the railing, her voice cloyingly sweet. "Grayson, I want the master bedroom! It's closer to Genevieve's room, so I can take better care of her."

Genevieve nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, that's very thoughtful of you, dear."

Grayson’s eyes flickered to me, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

But I just nodded calmly. "Fine. I'll move to the guest room."

I turned to head upstairs, but Grayson's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. "You're not yourself."

I turned back. "What's wrong? Isn't this what you all wanted?"

"But you…" He frowned, confused. "You're not usually like this."

"The 'me' from before?" I gave a dry laugh. "I thought this docile version was what you always wanted."

I shook off his hand, walked straight into the master bedroom, and began to pack.

Grayson followed, leaning against the doorframe, watching as I folded my clothes and placed them in my suitcase. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"What is wrong with you?"

I glanced up at him. "I'm making room."

He swallowed hard, but for once, he had nothing to say.