I looked at each of them slowly, letting the silence stretch until it pressed against their throats. No one could quite meet my eyes for long.
Then I smiled. Not bitterly. Not hysterically. Just calmly, as if they had proposed rearranging furniture instead of my life.
“You’re right,” I said softly. “What’s done is done.”
Relief flickered across Derek’s face too quickly. He had expected tears, maybe shouting. He had prepared defenses for anger, not agreement.
Cynthia straightened in her chair. “So you’ll cooperate?”
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