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“You made a choice,” I replied. “Over and over.”
They asked me to help. They said family mattered. They said I owed them. That was the moment whatever softness I had left disappeared.
When I stood to leave, my mother followed me to the door, begging, promising things would be different. I looked at her and realized she wasn’t afraid of losing me again. She was afraid of losing the house.
“You already lost me,” I said, and I meant it.
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