The Breaking Point
The day it all snapped, I hadn’t eaten since dawn. I worked eight hours, light-headed from hunger, and dragged myself home to make Dad’s mushroom cream pasta — comfort in a bowl. I barely had one bite before I was pulled into a phone call. Ten minutes later, I returned to find Gwen at the counter, my fork in her hand, my dinner already gone.
“GWEN? That was mine!”
She shrugged. “I was hungry.”
“I haven’t eaten ALL DAY!”
Her eyes welled instantly, practiced tears. “I’m pregnant!”
Tyler stormed in, protective fury painted across his face. “What the hell is wrong with you? Yelling at a pregnant woman?”
Mom’s voice sliced sharper than his. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”
That broke me. Dad — the only person who ever saw me, protected me, trusted me. To hear his memory used as a weapon? Something inside me snapped.
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