The chipped mug slammed onto the counter, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a fact that grated on Maya. She’d spent all morning cleaning, trying to stave off the feeling that coiled in her stomach like a venomous snake. Across the table, Liam was talking, his voice a drone she barely registered. "… great opportunity… closer to family… think it’ll be good, you know?" She focused on the slow, deliberate movements of her hand as she tore a paper towel in half, then in half again.
"Yeah," she finally managed, her voice flat. She could feel the muscles in her jaw clenching. He wouldn't understand. He never did. He'd always been the golden boy, the one with everything handed to him. Now he was leaving, and Maya was supposed to be happy for him. She picked at the label on the coffee jar.
She pushed back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the tile. "Well," she said, her tone clipped, "good luck. Don't expect me to come visit." The words hung in the air, thick and unpleasant, like the smell of burnt toast. She stalked out of the room, leaving Liam alone with his sunny optimism.