I stood my ground. "The agreement was for two years, Caleb. Two years to help Theo transition. It's been over five now."

His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. "So that's it? You're just going to abandon your responsibilities because of a little wax and some harsh words from a child?"

"A little wax?" I gestured to the angry redmarks covering my scalp and face. "Theo deliberately hurt me because I changed my hair color. What's next? What else will he destroy?"

"He's grieving, Emma!" Caleb shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. "For God's sake, he lost his mother! How many times do I need to explain this to you? You promised to help him!"

I tried to remain calm. "I've given him five years of my life, Caleb. I've tried everything to help him heal. But he doesn't want to heal, he wants to punish me for not being Olivia."

"Don't you dare speak her name," a cold voice interrupted from the doorway.

I turned to see Margaret Weah, Caleb's mother, standing with her arms folded across her chest. She'd never made any attempt to hide her disdain for me.

"I knew you'd pull something like this," she said. "Always looking for attention, always making everything about yourself instead of Olivia's memory."

"Margaret," I acknowledged her with a nod. "I've fulfilled my obligation. The agreement was two years. I've given more than double that."

She laughed. "Obligation? Is that what you call taking her place? Living in her home? Wearing her clothes and sleeping in her bed?"

"I never wanted to replace her," I said quietly. "That was never the agreement."

"Really?" Margaret's nail jabbed into my chest. "Then why did you agree to marry her husband? Why did you move into her house? Why have you been parading around looking exactly like her for five years?"

"Because you all insisted it was what Theo needed!" I felt my composure slipping. "You said it would help him heal!"

Caleb sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "We should all calm down. Today is about honoring Olivia's memory and celebrating Emma's birthday." He placed his hand on my shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up. I'll help you dye your hair back to blonde, and we can forget this nonsense about leaving."

His fingers moved from my shoulder to my neck, his touch lingering. "I can make it up to you tonight," he whispered. "After the party. Let me remind you why you're here."