Shame.
Instead, she slowly exhaled.
“Everyone is talking about that screenshot,” she said. “About the video you posted. I can’t show my face without people looking at me like I’m a monster.”
“Maybe stop acting like one,” I replied.
Her jaw tightened.
“You have no idea what it took to hold this family together,” she whispered. “Your father was useless with money. Ryan was reckless. I did what I had to do.”
“You did what you had to do,” I repeated. “Fine. Own it. But don’t you dare pretend you did it for me. You took from me. You lied to me. You made me feel guilty for wanting anything. And then you called me not needed when I stopped exhausting myself to make you look good.”
Her eyes glistened.
I didn’t move toward her.
My whole life, I had been conditioned to comfort her whenever she cried, even when she was the one who hurt me.
Not this time.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she admitted, voice cracking. “I was angry. You were being difficult.”
“Being difficult,” I echoed. “You called me unnecessary on purpose.”
“I was hurt,” she shot back. “You were turning everyone against me, planning your own Christmas.”
“I planned my own Christmas because you uninvited me from yours,” I said calmly. “I didn’t turn them against you. I just stopped hiding what you did.”
We stared at each other.
Years of unspoken things hung between us.
Finally, she whispered, “I’m alone, Olivia. Your father is useless. Your brother walked out. Half the family isn’t speaking to me. Are you happy now?”
The old me would have broken.
I would have hugged her and apologized for making her feel bad.
But tonight, I saw it differently.
Not vulnerability.
Manipulation.
“No,” I said honestly. “I’m not happy that you’re alone. I’m happy that the truth is out.”
She blinked.
“So what now?” she asked. “You never come home again? You cut me off forever? Is that what you want?”
I glanced toward the narrow strip of light from my apartment, at the blurry shapes moving inside.
Then I looked back at her.
