They felt no guilt.
They didn’t think they had exploited me.
They were just annoyed that I dared to demand fairness.
A sharp pain clenched in my chest.
Why had I ever thought they would change?
I took a deep breath and stood up. The chair scraped against the hardwood floor, the screeching sound cutting through the tense air.
“I’ve heard enough,” I said coldly. “I’m done.”
My mother blinked.
“What did you just say?”
I met her gaze, my words slow and deliberate.
“I’m done. I have no more obligations to any of you.”
Parker laughed, but there was something uneasy in his tone.
“What? You’re going to cut off the family just like that?”
I stared at him, unblinking.
“Yes, and you’ll soon understand exactly what that means.”
I turned on my heel, not waiting for their reaction.
My mother’s voice rang out behind me, sharp and frantic.
“Sophia, what the hell are you doing? Family is supposed to stick together. You can’t just cut us off over a little disagreement.”
I paused, a smirk curling on my lips.
But this time, it was ice cold.
“A little disagreement?” I repeated, then turned back, my eyes like steel. “This isn’t a little disagreement. This is betrayal.”
I walked swiftly toward the door, but before I crossed the threshold, my mother’s voice rang out one last time, filled with anger and warning.
“If you walk out that door, don’t ever think about coming back.”
I didn’t stop.
I didn’t need to go back.
I had all the answers I needed.
Driving back to San Francisco, I felt my chest tighten as if a boulder was pressing down on me. My mind spun with the bitter words from dinner, the disdainful looks from Olivia, Parker’s smug smirk, and the suffocating silence of my parents.
The buildings blurred past my car window, the streetlights stretching endlessly along the boulevard like hollow streaks of light.
I used to call that house my family, but now it was nothing more than a black hole that had swallowed every ounce of my effort and love.
When I got back to my apartment, I tossed my bag onto the couch, poured myself a glass of wine, and sank into the sofa.
A long sigh escaped my lips.
I didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore.
Only exhaustion and weariness remained.
Then I opened my banking app.
$2,100 per month.
That was how much I had been paying for them all these years.
$1,500 for the mortgage. $600 for utilities, electricity, water, internet, maintenance. Not to mention all the extra expenses, Parker’s tuition, the expensive gifts my mother suggested during the holidays, the vacations they invited me on, only for me to end up paying for everything.
A wave of betrayal surged through me, burning hot and thick in my throat.
I had poured everything into this family like a fool, while to them I was nothing more than a walking wallet.
I tapped the cancel recurring payments button.
The screen flashed, confirming the cancellation.
I stared at the words, “Successfully cancelled,” and an unfamiliar sense of relief washed over me.