She looked at my father, as if he might rescue her.
He did not.
My voice cracked, but I did not let it break.
“They are not ideas. They are people. Emma likes foxes and old bookstores and strawberry pancakes. Noah loves dinosaurs, hates peas, and checks the weather every morning because he wants to be prepared. They are funny and soft-hearted and brave. And you made them feel invisible in a room full of people who should have known them.”
Cassandra was crying now.
Even Evelyn looked down.
My mother sat frozen.
For one second, I thought something might open in her.
Then she said, “You always were dramatic.”
And whatever grief I had left for her hardened into mercy for myself.
I stood.
“We’re done.”
Maya gathered her papers.
My mother looked startled. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t just walk out whenever you dislike what I say.”
