months earlier, Aunt Clara surprised me with a beautiful silver crossover after learning I’d been taking two buses to reach the hospital for night shifts.
“You’ve worked hard enough, sweetheart,” she told me. “You deserve something reliable.”
I cried when she gave me the keys.
For once, I felt valued.
Then, two weeks before the family dinner, Mother showed up at my apartment.
“Jason’s car broke down,” she announced. “He needs yours temporarily.”
I refused.
She became furious.
“Your brother has children to support!”
“So do I,” I replied. “And
