years, my family had mistaken my silence for weakness.
They had mistaken my generosity for obligation.
They had mistaken my patience for an unlimited supply.
That night, they finally discovered the difference.
I walked upstairs to the guest room.
I packed the clothes I kept there.
I collected the spare keys.
I took the documents I had stored in the home office.
Then I walked downstairs.
Madison had arrived.
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
“Finally getting the message?”
I looked at my younger sister.
“Yes.”
Then I walked
