“They don’t want me there, do they?”
I sat beside her.
“They said they want only blood relatives.”
She stayed quiet for several seconds.
Then she gave me a small smile.
“Okay. I just won’t go.”
That response hurt more than anger would have.
She sounded like someone who had expected this.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I thought about the months of planning.
The deposit.
The fact that nobody had mentioned this once until three days before departure.
Then I remembered something important.
The reservation was in my name.
The deposit had been paid with my card.
And the remaining balance wasn’t due until check-in.
Apparently, my family believed they could exclude Leah while still enjoying the vacation I had organized and financed.
I didn’t yell.
I didn’t argue.
The next morning, I wrote two sentences in the family group chat:
“Understood about Leah. I’ll respect your decision. But I won’t be paying for the trip either.”
Then I put my phone down.
By breakfast, I had twenty-seven messages.
At first, they were confused.
