“I’m not starting anything,” I said. “I’m ending something.”
For eight years, I had been the emergency babysitter, the weekend babysitter, the unpaid tutor, the school pickup, the birthday organizer, the sick-day backup, and the person everyone blamed whenever one of Ryan’s children forgot a permission slip. I was thirty-one, single, working full time, and somehow still treated like extra furniture inside my parents’ home.
Madison’s smile disappeared. “You have no family. This is your training.”
The words struck colder than I had expected.
My mother turned her eyes away. My father stayed silent. Ryan only sighed, as if I were humiliating him.
I got to my feet, laid my napkin beside my plate, and picked up my purse.
Mom followed me to the door. “Olivia, don’t be dramatic.”
I looked back at the room, at the people who had decided my life was available simply because I had not had children.
“I’m not dramatic,” I said. “I’m done.”
I walked out without another word.
