My mom sl:ammed her fork onto the plate during dinner and told me I had 48 hours to move out, saying our Burlington house now belonged to my sister.

That’s when I finally said the words they never imagined hearing from me.

The fork struck the plate with a loud clatter that echoed through the kitchen.

My mother leaned back in her chair and fixed me with a cold stare.

“You have forty-eight hours to leave.”

For a moment I thought I had misunderstood.

“What?”

“This house belongs to Emily now.”

Emily.

My older sister.

The same sister who moved to California six years ago and rarely called unless she needed something.