For the first time, I didn’t see family.
I saw people who had grown comfortable being carried.
“My wife is in the kitchen,” I said quietly. “Crying. Washing your dishes.”
No one spoke.
“She’s eight months pregnant… and cleaning up after four capable adults while you sit here like this is a hotel!”
Megan rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. We told her she could leave it.”
“Tomorrow?” I said. “There are dishes from earlier this week.”
Lily crossed her arms. “We’re your family. She came later.”
I let out a hollow laugh.
“My family?”
I turned to my mother.
“You let this happen?”
“She stays home,” she replied calmly. “It’s natural she helps.”
“She’s carrying my child,” I cut in. “That’s why she’s home.”
Silence.
“I gave everything to this house,” I continued. “Years of my life… so you wouldn’t struggle.”
I looked around.
