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

My father came behind her, face gray with sleep and discomfort, one hand on the wall for balance. Neither of them looked surprised to see Christina in my kitchen. That hurt more than anything Christina had said.

“Mom?” I asked. My mother kept her eyes on the floor. “Please don’t make this ugly before sunrise.”

My father rubbed a hand over his face.

“It’s the sensible thing, Michelle. Christina and Jonathan need the space. They’re married.

They’re building a real life.”

I stared at him. “A real life?” I repeated softly. He flinched, but Christina stepped in before he could try to explain himself.

“You work from home,” she said. “You can work anywhere. A condo.

A rental. One of those tiny minimalist apartments you pretend to like. Jonathan and I need a house.”