My eighteen-year-old brother reached for one piece of chicken at dinner, and my mother-in-law slapped him so hard his fork hit the plate. “You greedy little freeloader!” she screamed. My husband didn’t defend him. He looked at me and said, “Don’t make this worse.” Four years of keeping the peace ended right there—because Diane still believed she was standing in her son’s house.

Marriage does not disappear the moment you become angry enough to leave it.

That would make things easier.

He looked tired.

“Can we talk?”

I sat across from him.

“Talk.”

He pushed a mug toward me.

I did not touch it.

“Mom called all night.”

“I blocked her.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“She told me.”

Of course she had.

“What does she want?”

“She wants you to apologize.”

I laughed once.

Ethan closed his eyes.

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“I told her she was wrong.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“After she left?”

“Yes.”

“Not while her hand was still in the air.”

His face tightened.

“I froze.”

“You didn’t freeze when you told me Noah needed manners.”

He looked down.

That landed.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then Ethan said, “I was trying to stop things from getting worse.”

“Worse for whom?”

He didn’t answer.