Dad noticed quickly.
“Did you accidentally cancel the family vacation fund?”
I typed back two words.
“No accident.”
Two hours later, Zach texted.
“We were planning Aruba.”
I stared at that sentence.
We.
That word almost made me laugh.
They were planning.
I was paying.
Over the next few months, I stopped automatically fixing everything.
No more family accounts.
No more quietly covering expenses.
No more being the person everyone remembered only when money or help was needed.
I started therapy.
I started spending my time and money on people who treated both like they mattered.
Then a lavender envelope arrived.
Mia’s engagement party.
Formal dinner.
Limited seating.
I almost threw it away.
Then my cousin Rachel called me.
She told me Mia’s fiancé, Derek, had been talking to Mom and Dad about a startup he wanted to launch.
Apparently, my name had already entered the conversation.
Rachel hesitated before repeating what Mom had said.
“Connor will probably cover it if we ask nicely.”
At my parents’ 30th anniversary dinner, I arrived in a suit and tie expecting to celebrate with my family. Instead, I discovered that my seat had been given to my sister’s new boyfriend.
