My Cousin Faked Illness to Steal My Boyfriend, He Turned the Tables Chapter 14

My Cousin Faked Illness to Steal My Boyfriend, He Turned the Tables Chapter 14

The living room wall was empty, the old sign having already been taken down.

Grandma wasn’t there.

Dad mentioned that after she moved to our uncle’s place, she used to complain every single day. But ever

since she heard that Iris was working out of town, the complaining had lessened.

Lately, she had even started bringing up how beautifully Savannah used to draw when she was a child.

Savannah didn’t comment.

Neither did I.

Not every delayed sentiment of longing deserved a response.

At the dinner table, Dad poured us water.

His hands were clumsier than before, spilling a few drops onto the table.

Greyson casually grabbed a cloth and wiped it up.

“Greyson, I wasn’t very considerate of you in the past,” Dad said in a low voice.

“You were mostly inconsiderate of Hadley,” Greyson replied.

Dad’s hand paused, and he nodded. “You’re right.”

That single admission felt heavier than the entire spread of food on the table.

The new sign featured words written by Savannah.

It didn’t say Harmony Above All.

It said To Each Their Rightful Place.

When Mom saw it, a dazed look crossed her face.

“What’s yours is yours. What’s wrong is wrong. Everyone lives their own life,” Savannah said. “That’s how

you get real peace.”

Dad personally hung the sign onto the wall.

Halfway through, Grandma’s voice echoed from outside the door.

My uncle helped her in. She looked much frailer than before. She saw the words on the wall and her face

darkened.

“A perfectly good family motto replaced by these cold words. What on earth is this supposed to mean?”

Holding a rag, Mom stood frozen in place.

In the past, she would have immediately looked at me, urging me to say something soothing to keep the

peace.

This time, she didn’t.

She looked directly at Grandma. “Mom, it was exactly because we cared too much about a superficial sense of harmony that the two girls had to suffer so much.”

Grandma’s eyes widened in shock. “Now you’re turning around to blame me too?”

Mom’s voice trembled, but she refused to back down. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying I’m not going to

live my life like that anymore.”

The living room fell so quiet you could hear the sign’s hanging cord scraping against the wall.

Grandma looked over at Savannah, then at me.

Her lips twitched for a long time before she managed to squeeze out, “You two sisters truly have hearts of

stone.”

“We were soft once,” Savannah answered. “But no one cared.”

The words completely shut Grandma down.

Sinking into a chair, she suddenly looked entirely drained of energy.

Our uncle quietly advised her to drop the subject.

For once, I didn’t feel that old ache in my chest.

I just stared at the new sign on the wall.

To Each Their Rightful Place.

It turned out that a family’s true fresh start didn’t involve everyone crowding together and crying.

It was about everyone finally standing in their own proper place.

After dinner, Greyson set the side of glazed ribs he had brought onto the table.

Grandma glanced at it but didn’t pick up her silverware.

Greyson didn’t try to persuade her.

He placed a piece on my plate, then another on Savannah’s.

Watching us, Mom let out a gentle smile.

That smile carried a mix of apology and an awkward, tentative effort to learn how to be better.

I didn’t try to frame her effort as something incredibly precious.

We had plenty of time ahead of us

A life doesn’t automatically get better just because of a single apology.

It gets better slowly, by choosing over and over again not to make the same mistakes.

Before New Year’s Eve, Greyson closed the diner for three days.

He posted a note on the front door: [Closed. Accompanying my girlfriend back home.]

I complained that he was being way too flashy.

Smoothing out the tape, he said with absolute justification, “I worked hard all year. The least I can do is let everyone passing by know that I have a girlfriend.”

Savannah walked past us, carrying a bag of holiday groceries. “Can you two please keep it down a little?”

“Nope,” Greyson said. “She spent too long having her things taken from her. I need everyone to know that

I’m not going anywhere.”

I threw a dish towel at him.

He laughed and dodged it.

Down the street, someone set off fireworks, the sounds bursting in a rapid sequence.

I looked up and saw the warm lights of the diner, the new orders sent from the studio, the hairpin Savannah

had left on the table, and a new text message from Mom.

She said she’d made a big meal and told us to come if we wanted.

I texted back: [We’ll be there in a bit.]

This time, I wasn’t being summoned back to bow my head.

I was going because I wanted to.

Greyson took my hand. “Hadley, let’s go home for dinner.”

Looking at him, I suddenly remembered the hand he had used to separate himself from Iris with a tissue

back at the mall line.

At the time, I thought he was just good at sniffing out manipulation.

Only later did I realize that the rarest thing wasn’t his ability to spot toxic people.

It was the fact that after identifying them, he consistently, unflinchingly stood by my side.

I locked up the diner door

The winter wind carried the rich scent of home-cooked meals and the smell of New Year fireworks.

This time, I didn’t hand the keys over to anyone else.

I put them away myself and walked with him toward the lights.

She poured her fortune into his company. He climbed into bed with his ex for…