Oblivious to Galilea's mood, Evie, perched at the edge of the bed, continued her litany of complaints. "You've known Tyrone for years, yet Sabrina managed to outdo you. It's beyond me why you were so adamant about leaving the country. If not for that, you'd be Mrs. Blakely now. You must swallow your pride, give him what he..."

“Enough! Can you just shut up?" Galilea interjected, her patience worn thin.

If she'd had her way, she wouldn't have left all those years ago. But the choice hadn't been hers.

"I'm your mother. I'm only looking out for you," Evie grumbled, her lips curling into a pout.

She fed Galilea some soup, pressing on. "It's common knowledge that you two were a couple. How did things come to this? You've barely returned and now you're leaving again. It's embarrassing for your father and me. We're at a Loss when our friends ask about you."

Eyes closed, Galilea asked in a measured tone, "Where's Dad? What has he been up to lately?"

He'd made a promise to deal with Sabrina, but had he followed through?

How disappointing her parents had proven to be!

"Your dad? Don't bother with him. He's probably with his new mistress by now."

Galilea held her silence.

Why were these people her parents?

Her father, ever so ambitious yet utterly ineffective when it came to family affairs, knew only how to juggle mistresses.

Her mother, constantly bickering with her father, did nothing but nag.

She found herself envying Sabrina.

Despite her difficult upbringing, Sabrina had effortlessly secured the title of Mrs. Blakely.

"Don't rely on your dad. If there's anything you need, just tell me."

Galilea glanced at her mother without uttering a word.

"What's with that look?" Evie questioned, irritated.

"Nothing. Don't read too much into it," Galilea snapped, clearly exasperated.

After her spat with Galilea, Evie returned home and flung her purse onto the sofa.