Then I started packing.
For three weeks, I quietly moved my belongings out piece by piece while everyone upstairs continued treating me like the household ATM. I signed a lease for a small apartment twenty minutes away. On the first day of the month, Mom texted me: Rent is due. Don’t forget the new amount.
I replied, I don’t live there anymore. Enjoy the freeloaders.
Then I turned off my phone and slept peacefully for the first time in years.
PART 2
The next morning, I woke up to thirty-seven missed calls.
Most were from Mom. A handful were from Ryan. One was from Dad, which surprised me because Dad rarely called unless something was seriously wrong.
I made coffee in my new apartment and looked around. Boxes were still stacked everywhere. My mattress sat directly on the floor. My only chair was a folding chair from Target.
But it was quiet.
Nobody stomped above my head. Nobody used my towels. Nobody acted like my paycheck belonged to the family. Family
I opened Mom’s messages first.
