"Ah," Lyra said, and bit her lip, fully expecting him to yell again when she answered. "Three years."
There wasn't much she could say to soften that. Maybe she even wanted him to yell about it. Maybe she wanted someone else to get in Jem's face about how shit it had been. Someone Jem might actually listen to. Maybe she wasn't over it as much as she'd just forced herself to be because being over it was the only way to live in the same small apartment without anger and bitterness.
So she didn't try to soften it, at all. Three years, mom. Fuck you very much.