“You’re really doing this?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Yes,” I said, standing my ground.
“What about Martha?” she sobbed. “What about the baby?”
I sighed, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on me.
“Mom, I’ve told you before. Martha and the baby aren’t my problem. I can’t keep sacrificing my own life to fix her mistakes.”
That set her off.
“How dare you talk about your sister like that?” she cried, her voice rising. “She’s doing the best she can.”
“Is she?” I shot back. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s just waiting for everyone else to do the work for her.”
At that moment, Martha emerged from the basement, looking disheveled but wide awake. She took one look at the scene unfolding in the driveway and smirked.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “If Abby wants to be selfish, later, we don’t need her anyway.”
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to snap back. Instead, I turned to Alicia, who had just pulled up in her car.
“Let’s get this done,” I said, ignoring the chaos behind me.
Alicia gave me a sympathetic look and started helping me load the rest of my stuff into the cars. My parents continued to argue in the background, throwing out every guilt trip they could think of.
“Who’s going to help us now?” Dad shouted.
“How can you be so heartless?” Mom wailed.
Martha, meanwhile, leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing like it was some kind of live performance for her entertainment.
By the time we were done loading everything, I felt like I’d run a marathon. I stood in the driveway, taking one last look at the house I’d called home for so many years.
It should have been a bittersweet moment, but all I felt was relief.
With that, I started the engine and drove away, Ellesia following close behind.
The relief I felt when I pulled into Alicia’s apartment complex was immediate. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean, quiet, and most importantly, drama-free.
Alicia helped me carry everything inside, and within an hour, I was unpacked and settled into my new room. We sat on the couch afterward, chatting about work.
It felt normal, like a glimpse of the life I’d been missing while stuck in the middle of my family’s chaos.
But that peace only lasted about 2 hours.
My phone started buzzing non-stop. Calls, texts, voicemails. It was my parents, my aunts, my cousins.
Apparently, my mom had already spread the news that I’d abandoned the family, and everyone had something to say about it.
“Abby, how could you do this to your sister?” one voicemail from my aunt Carol started. “She’s pregnant and vulnerable. Don’t you care about family?”
“Selfish doesn’t even begin to describe you,” another text from a cousin read.
The worst part was Martha’s social media posts. She’d gone full victim mode, posting pictures of her baby bump with captions like, “Some people would rather run away than help their own family. At least my baby will know what real love looks like.”