Chapter 4: The Aftermath
The departure was a whirlwind of slammed doors, vicious insults, and a squealing set of tires pulling out of their suburban driveway. Eleanor had promised that Ethan would be cut off from the family completely. Ethan had simply locked the deadbolt in response.
When he finally turned back to the kitchen, the house felt lighter. The oppressive, suffocating tension had evaporated. Clara was sitting on one of the barstools, her face buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
Ethan didn't try to stop her tears. He walked over, knelt on the floor in front of her, and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her pregnant belly.
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"I am so sorry," he whispered into the fabric of her shirt, his own eyes burning. "I am so sorry I didn't see it sooner. I'm sorry I let them make you feel like you had to earn your place in this house. You are my family, Clara. Only you. And I will never let anyone make you feel small again."
Clara reached down, her fingers trembling as they tangled into his hair. For the first time in five days, she didn't force a smile. She just let herself be held, realizing that the man she married hadn't abandoned her to the wolves—he had just kicked the wolves out.
