Mason


    Dinner with my family before Lydia and I had gotten married had always felt like a ritual – a carefully choreographed performance where we danced around emotions and narrowly avoided confrontations. The sound of clinking silverware was the only thing breaking the silence as I worked through my meal. Across from me, my mother sat poised, her back straight as ever, her every movement precise and deliberate. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin before speaking, her tone crisp enough to cut through the air.


    “The papers are ready?” She asked, meeting my gaze. “And signed as well?” She pushed further. I darted a nce in Zoe’s direction, already knowing what expression I would find on her face. My mother and I had kept our ns from her until now, knowing she would definitely have objected. Just as I’d guessed, her eyebrows were drawn together in confusion and I could see the unspoken question in her eyes. I set my fork down, taking a sip of water before meeting my mother’s gaze.


    “Yes,”I replied evenly. “They’re ready. I signed them yesterday.” The weight of her approval – or disapproval, since was never satisfied no matter what – hung in the air between us. Before I could narrow down the look on her face, Zoe’s voice cut through.


    “What papers?” she questioned.


    –


    My mother turned her attention to her then, and I thought I could defect an unspoken challenge in her gaze but it was probably all in my head. “The divorce papers,” she replied, her voice calm and detached, as though she were discussing a business deal. “Mason will be visiting Lydia in prison soon to deliver them.” The reminder that my marriage was about toe to an end was like getting hit with a ton of bricks. I noticed the way Zoe froze, her fork suspended mid-air, the disbelief in her eyes giving way to outright shock.


    I clenched my jaw, trying to focus on the food in front of me, but it was impossible to ignore the tension crackling in the room. My mother, as always, remained unbothered. She finished her meal without missing a beat, pushed her chair back, and stood with the grace of someone who had long since mastered control. “I expect her signature to be on the papers as soon as possible so that way she will be out of our life, forever.” she said, smoothing the napkin over the table before setting it down, “Goodnight.”[][] I gave her a subtle nod, watching as she headed upstairs.


    I couldn’t help the guilt that ate at me then. She had gotten like this – closed off, guarded, indifferent – all because of me. If I had never met Lydia… I couldn’t me her for wanting to get justice for his death the only way she knew how. I turned my attention back to my food. Zoe wasted no time. “You’re taking this too far, Mason,” she said, her voice low but sharp. I sighed, forking some Mac and cheese into my mouth. She pushed further. “Mason, you’re making a big-”


    “Don’t start, Zoe.”


    “No,” she snapped, her tone rising. “You listen to me-”


    “No, you listen to me,” I cut in, feeling my anger bubbling beneath my skin. I was tired of the whole situation, tired of the back and forth. My brain and heart had been at war from the moment I’d walked into my step father’s room three months ago. The second I’de to know of Lydia’s secret,e to know she wasn’t at all the innocent woman she pretended to be… I let my fork drop with a ng. “Just because you never liked Jared doesn’t mean we should let his killer go unpunished.” I snapped.


    I ignored the disbelieving look on her face at my words, meeting her gaze head-on. Did she think this was easy for me? That this was an easy decision for me to make? Both of them might have crossed a line but Lydia had made the biggest mistake when she’d taken matters into her own hands and taken his life. She’d had no right to do that. I had never pegged her for many of the things she’d ended up doing, but mostly I had never pegged her for a killer. “She killed our stepfather, Zoe. She’s a murderer. This isn’t about punishment; it’s about justice.”


    She shook her head, disappointment shing across her face. “Justice?” she echoed, her voice sounding squeaky. I darted my gaze to the stairs, wanting to make sure my mother wasn’t lurking by. Knowing her own daughter was taking Lydia’s side


    would wreck her. Zoe scoffed, bringing my attention back to her. “Is this really about justice? Or is this about jealousy? Because it sounds a hell of a lot like thetter. We both know neither of us really cared for Jared. He’s also in the wrong here, but you’re taking his side because it’s her betrayal that cut the most, right? Mom told you Lydia had been cheating on you so now you-”


    “Enough, Zoe!” I yelled, mming my hands down on the table and squeezing my eyes tightly, trying to block out her words. Trying to push back the thoughts and images that has haunts me for weeks. Her words had struck a nerve, and I didn’t care that she could see it. My eyes were narrowed into slits by the time I reopened them. “She’s a murderer,” I repeated, my voice colder than I intended. “I don’t care what might have happened or how much you liked her, you have toe to terms with the truth. It was her who pulled the trigger that night. Not him”


    Zoe stared at me for a long moment, her disappointment cutting deeper than I cared to admit. “That’s really all she is to you now?” she asked softly, “A murderer?”][] I huffed, shaking my head. There was no use arguing with her, she clearly wasn’t willing to listen and understand the situation. If she wanted to carry on asking questions, I had no answer for her. Or maybe I did, but I couldn’t say it. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? You won’t even think about who she was before all of this. Who she still is.”


    Her chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood, and left the room without another word. Who she was? She was my wife. The woman I’d thought I would spend the rest of my life with. Who she still was? I thought about the divorce papers still sitting on my desk in my study. The ones I’d lied to my mother that I’d already signed. Well, we were about to fix who she was, weren’t we? By the end of the week, after the divorce papers had been filed, we would mean absolutely nothing to each other.


    I sat there in the silence she left behind, staring at the spot where she’d been. Before I even realized what I was doing, my hand reached for the ss in front of me. In one swift motion, I hurled it blindly across the room. The sound of it shattering pierced the air. I looked down at the jagged shards scattered across the floor, my chest heaving. For a moment, I saw myself in those broken pieces – fractured, distorted, and unrecognizable. For the first time, I wondered if Zoe was right. What if…..


    What if I was about to make the worst mistake of my life?