I stared at it for a long time and I almost replied.
I almost fell back into that default version of myself. The one who apologized just to keep the peace. The one who would have said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you even if I had.”
But then I thought about how many times I’d been asked to understand their side. How many times I was expected to be the bigger person and how little that understanding ever flowed back my way.
Instead of responding, I pulled out a postcard from a local shop, scribbled a single sentence across it, and dropped it in the nearest mailbox.
This time, you figure it out.
No return address, no hint of location, just those six words and the faded picture of a sunlit coastline they’d never seen.
By the end of the week, my best friend Alec, one of the only people who actually got me, sent a text.
Bro, you win. They’re losing their minds. You coming back anytime soon or
I texted back, not yet, but I might need you to feed my goldfish.
Already did, he replied, followed by Also, Bianca posted something weird. You should look.
I pulled up her account. It was a filtered photo of her at a cafe in Greece trying to look breezy and unbothered, but the caption read, “Some people only know how to hurt the people who love them.”
The comments were filled with emojis, vague encouragements, and a few questions like, “What happened? And is this about your brother?”
She was trying to get ahead of the narrative. Spin it so that I look like the selfish one.
I didn’t comment.
I didn’t post my own photo in response, but I did take one, a candid shot from my spot on the cliffs. Coffee in hand, the ocean stretching into forever.
I didn’t upload it, just saved it for me, because something was shifting, not just in them, but in me.
And they had no idea what I had planned next.
By the start of the second week, the messages turned from frantic to manipulative.
First came the guilt tripping texts from my mom, the kind she used to send when I didn’t immediately reply to her dinner invitations or when I said no to family outings to focus on school or work.
Only this time, they were laced with urgency she hadn’t shown in years.
Emoam, Luca, this has gone far enough. Your father is under a lot of stress. You’re hurting this family.
Moam, I didn’t think you’d be so cold. We always counted on you. Is this how you repay us?
Mo, do you even care how this is affecting your sister?