The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. Linda tapped his shoulder as though he’d missed an order. “I said stop.”

The van eased to the curb. Maya looked at Ryan, and for one breath she thought maybe this was where he’d remember that marriage wasn’t supposed to be a spectator sport.

Linda looked Maya up and down. “She isn’t standing with us,” she said. “She ruins the aesthetic.”

The van went very quiet. Ashley’s flute paused halfway to her mouth. The driver stared at the gates. Ryan’s hand rested on his knee, relaxed and useless.

Linda smiled. “Get out.”

Maya didn’t answer at first. The old version of her would have asked Ryan if he was going to allow this. The older version of her would have tried to preserve dignity by pretending the humiliation hadn’t landed.