Ginny frowned, her chopsticks resting forgotten in her hand as she turned her gaze to Lyle.
The tension in the room seemed to settle heavier between them, a quiet weight that pressed against her chest. She hadn't expected to feel so defensive, hadn't expected Lucy of all people to be the hill she'd plant her flag on. But here she was, facing down one of the Thorne twins, her words already forming on the edge of her tongue.
"Look, I get it," she said finally, her voice calm but edged with steel. "You two have always seen me as someone you need to take care of. Like I'm some little girl you have to look out for. But I'm not a kid anymore, Lyle. And neither is Lucy."
Lyle's expression didn't shift, but she saw the flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, maybe, or surprise. It didn't matter. She pushed forward.
