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“Selfish,” Dad chimed in, shaking his head. “Absolutely selfish.”
I stood there, my duffel bag still over my shoulder, watching my family turn into a Greek chorus of accusations.
The words washed over me—selfish, ungrateful, inconsiderate, immature—each one meant to cut deep, to put me back in my place.
Then Mom delivered what she clearly thought would be the knockout blow.
“If you walk out that door tomorrow, don’t bother coming back to this house.”
To everyone’s surprise, I burst out laughing, not a nervous giggle, but a full, genuine laugh.
They all stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“You know what’s funny?” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “I’ve been dreaming about moving out of this house for months. I just didn’t have the courage to do it. But here you are, giving me the perfect excuse. So… thank you, Mom.”
“Get out!” Sarah shrieked, her fake sobs forgotten in her rage. “Just get out!”
“Gladly.”
I pulled out my phone and dialed Rachel’s number, putting it on speaker just to make a point.
“Hey, R, sorry to call so late, but is that offer to crash at your place still good? Not just for after skiing, but maybe for a few days?”
“Of course,” Rachel’s cheerful voice filled the room. “I have a spare room. Want to come over now?”
“That would be perfect. I’ll be there in twenty.”
I spent the next fifteen minutes gathering everything I could fit in my car, clothes, important documents, personal items.
They watched from various doorways as I made trips up and down the stairs, as if they couldn’t quite believe I was really doing it.
When I had loaded the last box, I walked into the living room where they had all gathered.
“Oh, one more thing,” I said, my voice steady. “Since I won’t be living here anymore, I won’t be paying any of the bills either. You’ll need to figure out how to support yourselves.”
Mom’s face went pale.