The television murmured softly, an unimportant drama playing out in flickering colors. Samy sat upright on the couch, composed as ever, while Natalie leaned beside her, half-watching, half-bored.
The front door opened with a quiet creak.
Athena slipped inside, school bag still slung over one shoulder, her movements careful. She kicked off her shoes silently and headed for the stairs, hoping to vanish before anyone noticed.
She had barely lifted her foot—
"Athena."
Samy's voice sliced clean through the room.
Athena stopped. Slowly, she turned, already tired. "What do you want now?"
"I didn't tell you to go upstairs," Samy said, irritation sharpening her tone. "Come here."
Athena descended the steps without haste, her face calm but sealed tight. She stopped a short distance away, fingers curled around the strap of her bag.
"I'm here."
Samy leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing as she assessed her. "It seems your uncouth mother never taught you proper manners."
Something dark flashed across Athena's face. "Mind your words."
Natalie stiffened. "How dare you speak to my mother like that?"
Samy lifted a hand, silencing her daughter without looking. Her gaze never left Athena. "Don't bother arguing, Natalie."
Then, evenly—mercilessly—she said, "From today onward, you are no longer a member of the Williams family."
The words landed with a dull finality.
Athena didn't move. For a second, she couldn't even breathe. Her grip tightened on her bag until her knuckles whitened.
"…What?" Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "Why?"
"I was contacted by your school," Samy replied, folding her arms. "You've been absent for half a month."
Athena frowned, confusion breaking through the shock. "The school knows. I informed the management—"
"I don't care," Samy cut in sharply. "The Williams family does not tolerate truants. Excuses are irrelevant." Her head tilted slightly, lips curving into something almost satisfied. "So this is your punishment."
The ticking clock on the wall grew unbearably loud.
Athena swallowed. "Is this… what the family wants?"
Samy shrugged. "Do you think I'd make such a decision without approval?"
For a long moment, Athena stared at the floor. When she spoke again, her voice was steady—but fractured underneath.
"If that's what you want," she said quietly, "then fine."
She turned and went upstairs.
Minutes passed. The television continued playing, oblivious. Then Athena returned, a single bag in her hand. No extra clothes. No keepsakes. Nothing she hadn't learned to live without.
She didn't look at them.
The door opened. Sunlight spilled in, brushing her face for the last time. She stepped outside—and closed the door behind her with a soft, final click.
Silence settled.
Natalie shifted uneasily. "Mom… did we go too far?"
Samy didn't look away from the screen. "What do you mean?"
"What if Grandma asks about her?" Natalie murmured.
"We'll tell her the truth," Samy replied coolly. "That she chose to leave."
Natalie hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, Mom."
Samy leaned back into the couch. Natalie curled closer to her side. On the television, laughter erupted from characters who knew nothing of broken homes or severed bonds.
And just like that, the Williams household moved on—
As if a girl hadn't just been erased.