Too Late For His Regret Now

Aubrey POV: It was ten in the morning. I was sitting at the kitchen island, a thick textbook on federal tax law open in front of me. The sharp clack of high heels echoed on the hardwood floor. Jeanie marched into the kitchen, her face twisted in a scowl, and threw a garment directly onto the granite counter. It was a floor-length silk dress. A dark, dried red wine stain ruined the bodice. "Wash this," Jeanie commanded. "Cold water only. Use the special imported silk detergent. And do it right now." I looked at the dress. It was the exact outfit she had worn to her secret dinner with Carolina last night. The wine stain looked like a bloody medal she had won for mocking me. For three years, I would have immediately closed my book, gone to the laundry room, and scrubbed until my knuckles bled. Today, I reached out and flipped the heavy cover of my tax book closed. The thud echoed in the quiet kitchen. I looked up, meeting Jeanie's eyes directly. "I have a headache," I said, my voice perfectly flat. "I'm dizzy." Jeanie froze. Her mouth fell open slightly. She couldn't process that the docile stray dog she had kicked for years was suddenly refusing a command. Her face turned an ugly shade of red. Her voice spiked an octave. "You lazy parasite! You eat my food, live under my roof, and now you're faking sick?" I didn't flinch. I just pushed the silk dress across the counter, back toward her. "The dry cleaner is two blocks down, take a left," I said. Jeanie gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white. "You ungrateful little bitch. You have absolutely no manners!" The front door opened. Kieran walked into the entryway, holding a leather briefcase. He had forgotten a file for his morning meeting. He walked into the kitchen, saw his mother's furious face, and immediately scowled. "Kieran!" Jeanie pointed a shaking finger at me. "Look at how she treats me! I asked her for one simple favor, and she threw it back in my face!" Kieran stopped in front of the island. He looked down at me with that familiar, patronizing glare. "Apologize to my mother," he ordered. "And go wash the damn dress, Aubrey. Stop causing drama." I looked at the man I had planned to marry. He looked like a complete stranger. There were no tears in my eyes. There was no panic in my chest. I just tilted my head and asked, "Am I your fiancée, or your hired laundress?" Kieran choked on his breath. His face hardened into defensive anger. "I bust my ass at the firm every single day to provide for you!" he yelled, pointing at the floor. "The least you can do is help out around the house and be sensible!" It was the same manipulative script he used every time I asked for basic respect. It used to make me feel guilty. Now, it just sounded pathetic. I didn't lower my head. I didn't say I was sorry. I picked up my heavy CPA textbook, stood up from the stool, and walked right past him toward the hallway. Kieran spun around, his eyes wide with disbelief. "If you walk out of this kitchen, you're going to regret it, Aubrey!" I didn't break my stride. I walked into my cramped junk room and slammed the door behind me. The noise rattled the frame. Through the thin walls, I heard the crash of a ceramic bowl hitting the floor and Kieran swearing loudly. I leaned my back against the door. A slow, genuine smile spread across my face. I felt lighter than I had in years. I sat down at my folding desk and opened my book again. "Watch me burn this house down."