I Worked On My Birthday, My Mom Texted: “We Sold Your Car — Family Comes First. Thanks For Being Flexible While You Stay Here.” Then She Added, “Oh, And Your Brother’s Starting College — We’re Hoping You Can Help With His First Semester. $6,000, Due This Week.” I Said: “No”. My Dad Said Loudly: “Pack Your Things — We Need You To Move Out.” So I Did And Left Something Behind. And The Next Morning,…

You don’t get to say no after everything we’ve done for you.”
The line went dead. And for a second, the café noise around me just faded out. On my birthday, my car was gone.

My money was already spent in their heads. And apparently, I was “gone” for daring to push back. When my shift ended, there was no car waiting for me in the lot.

Just empty asphalt and the realization that they had actually done it. I walked home replaying every time I had fixed the Wi‑Fi, set up their online banking, paid a bill “just this once.”
If I was so disposable—so easy to cut off—then so were all the little ways I’d been keeping their lives running. I walked into that house for what I already knew was the last time.

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