The front door clicked shut behind Emily, the sound echoing through the hollow foyer. She hesitated, her hand still on the knob, as if the house itself might reject her return. The air smelled of lemon polish and something sharper—resentment, perhaps, seeping from the walls.
"Good morning, *ma*," Emily said flatly, spotting Mrs. Maddison perched on the living room sofa like a vulture awaiting carrion. The older woman's spine was rigid, her manicured fingers curled around a teacup that had long gone cold.
"Barren woman," Mrs. Maddison spat, not bothering to look up. "Two years, and still no heir. What good are you?"
The words hung in the air, barbed and deliberate. Emily's nails dug into her palms, but she kept her voice steady. "David and I haven't—"
"*Haven't*?" The teacup clattered onto its saucer. "Don't blame my son. A real wife finds a way. Even if it's *not* his." Her smirk was venomous.
Emily's throat tightened. *Not his*. The unspoken accusation—that David's infidelity was justified—twisted like a knife. She turned toward the stairs, her legs leaden.
"Where do you think you're going?" Mrs. Maddison rose, her voice shrill. "You'll *look* at me when I'm speaking to you!"
Emily kept climbing, each step a battle. Behind her, the woman's tirade crescendoed. "Useless! No child, no spine—no wonder David strays!"
A door slammed upstairs. David emerged, shirt untucked, shadows bruising his eyes. "What the hell is this noise?"
"Your *wife*," Mrs. Maddison sneered, "thinks she's too good to acknowledge her betters."
David's gaze flicked to Emily, halfway up the staircase. "Apologize to my mother. Now."
Emily froze. "*Apologize*? After what she called me? After what *you* did last night?"
He descended the steps, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't start. You know how she is."
"Yes. I do." Emily met his glare, her voice trembling with rage. "Just like you know how she's *always* been with me. But you've never stopped her. Not when she insulted my family. Not when she blamed me for *your* lies. And now—" She gestured to her cheek, the concealer barely masking the bruise. "You slap me, then let her kick me while I'm down?"
Mrs. Maddison scoffed. "Dramatic, as usual. If you'd given him a child—"
"Enough!" Emily's shout silenced the room. She turned to David, her eyes blazing. "You won't even take a *test*. Why? Afraid they'll find out the problem isn't me?"
David's face darkened. "You're delusional."
"Am I?" She laughed, bitter and broken. "Or are you just too *small* to face the truth?"
The word hung between them—*small*—a grenade lobbed from last night's battle. David's hand twitched, but Emily was already moving, shoving past him toward the door.
Mrs. Maddison's laughter followed her. "Let her go, David. She's done you a favor."
Outside, the midday sun glared down, unforgiving. Emily stumbled to the curb, her breath coming in jagged gasps. The house loomed behind her, a gilded cage now cracking at its foundations.
*Small*.
She repeated it silently, her fingers curling into fists. Not just David. Not just his mother.
*They* were small. And she—
A car horn blared. Emily blinked, realizing she'd stepped into the street. Across the road, a florist's window display caught her eye: vibrant sunflowers, their faces turned defiantly toward the light.
She straightened, wiping her cheeks. Somewhere, a phoenix preened its feathers.