Chapter 15 - The Chair at My Table
Six months later, I lived in a smaller house in Decatur.
Not because Brianna drove me out.
Because I chose it.
The Buckhead villa was too large, too expensive, and filled with rooms that belonged to a version of our family I no longer wanted to preserve.
Brian and Brianna’s divorce had begun but was not finished.
The civil case over the missing money moved just as slowly.
Some funds had been recovered through the sale of Northline assets.
More remained disputed.
Paul faced professional discipline.
Brianna had complied with the protective order.
There had been no dramatic arrest.
No instant justice.
Just consequences arriving one document, one payment, one lost relationship at a time.
Brian rented a townhouse.
He came to dinner every Sunday now.
Jason and Megan came when they could.
Megan still apologized whenever the kitchen attack came up.
I finally told her to stop.
“You showed up.”
That was enough.
One Sunday, Brian carried plates to my new dining table.
He paused at the empty chair beside him.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“If Brianna ever really changes…”
He could not finish.
I understood.
She had been his wife for seventeen years.
Love did not disappear simply because trust did.
“I don’t know what I would do,” I told him.
He nodded.
For once, neither of us demanded certainty from the other.
After dinner, Megan helped me wrap leftovers.
Brian and Jason argued about football in the living room.
Ordinary noise filled my small house.
Before bed, I passed the dining room and noticed the extra chair still pulled slightly away from the table.
I almost pushed it back.
Instead, I left it where it was.
May you like
Brianna no longer had a place in my home.
Whether she would ever earn one again was a decision I finally understood I did not have to make today.
