When I finally walked through the front door, everything looked exactly the same. That made it worse somehow. Like nothing had happened. Like this was normal.
“Did you really sell my car?” I asked.
My mother didn’t even look up right away. “We did what we had to do.”
Her voice was calm. Practical. Like she was talking about groceries, not something that belonged to me.
“Family comes first,” she added.
My father stepped in then, his voice sharp. He said I owed them. For raising me. For feeding me. For giving me a place to live.
That was when it clicked.
Not emotionally.
Logically.
I wasn’t their daughter.
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