At 5:06 a.m., my sister walked into the house I bo…

Christina had expected screaming. My mother had expected pleading. My father had expected some tired, practical compromise that would let him keep pretending he wasn’t part of the betrayal.

Instead, I lowered myself back into my chair and reopened my laptop. “That’s it?” Christina asked. I met her eyes.

“You gave me a deadline. I’m respecting it.”

She let out a short breathless laugh. “Good.

That makes everything easier.”

It did. Just not for them. They started talking almost immediately, right in front of me, as if I had already become a logistical nuisance instead of a person.

Paint. Flooring. A nursery someday.