Chapter 4

The day before I left, I went to the office to finish my last handover.

At three in the afternoon, Mom suddenly called. Her tone was back to normal, as if yesterday's unpleasantness had never happened. "Come home tonight and help me move the things out of the guest room."

I asked, "What's going on?"

Mom laughed on the other end. "Lily bought an electric keyboard, and it takes up too much space in her room. Your dad and I talked it over, and we're turning the guest room into a music room.

"Nobody stays in there anyway. When you come back, you can sleep on the couch or squeeze in with Lily for the night."

I was quiet for two seconds. "Okay."

By the time I got there, Fred had already taken apart the folding bed.

Lily was crouched on the floor sticking down soundproofing panels. She looked a little embarrassed when she saw me. "I wasn't trying to take over the guest room. Mom said it was a waste to leave it empty."

I nodded and helped her carry out the last two boxes.

Mom directed from the side. "Allie, take that box of yours while you're at it. Don't leave it here. It's taking up space."

So I carried the box holding twenty-odd years of my memories out to my car.

On the last trip down, I stood in the entryway changing my shoes.

The disposable slippers had gone flat from wear. Beside them, the four pairs of custom slippers still sat in a neat row.

When Mom saw me staring at them, she finally seemed to remember something. "Oh, right. I'll order you a pair next time."

I looked down and put on my shoes. "Don't bother."

She gave me a playful nudge. "Still holding a grudge? Why do you overthink everything these days?

"Even if I did buy you a pair, you only come home twice a month. They'd just sit there gathering dust."

I suddenly laughed too. "You're right."

There really was no need to buy them. From now on, they wouldn't even get the chance to gather dust.

I set the last box in the trunk just as Dad hurried down after me with a stack of printouts. "Perfect timing. Take a look at this for me."

It was the itinerary for the four of them to go to Mauiro Bay over New Year's.

They'd booked two hotel rooms with two beds each, and four plane tickets.

Dad flipped through it as he explained, "Don't you usually work over the holidays? So we didn't ask you."

I'd told Mom about my vacation days for this year two months ago. Back then, she'd even said that once the move was over, the whole family could finally go somewhere together for the holidays.

So when they actually got around to booking, they'd forgotten about me again.

Seeing I hadn't said anything, Dad added, "If you want to come too, just buy another plane ticket now. You can squeeze in with Lily at the hotel. We can make room either way."

Here we go again.

As long as I was actually standing in front of them, they could always find a way to "make room" for me. Add a bed at the last minute. Pull up an extra chair. Buy one more ticket.

So in their eyes, it seemed I'd never really been shortchanged.

But if a family truly had a place for you, your share would have been there from the very start.

I handed the itinerary back to Dad. "You guys go. I already have plans for New Year's."

Dad was clearly annoyed. "I ask you one simple question, and you give me attitude.

"Allie, nobody can take care of every little thing when it comes to family. You were always the one we never had to worry about. Why have you gotten so hard to please lately?"

I looked at him and suddenly lost all desire to explain. "Dad, I'm not mad."

He didn't believe me at all. "All right, go home and sleep on it. You'll feel better in a couple of days."

"Mm."

This time, I didn't argue.

That night, back at my rental, I packed my things into two suitcases.

My landlord had already come by to inspect the place. The utilities were paid up, and my security deposit had been refunded to my account.

That afternoon, Mom had sent over the twenty thousand dollars with a memo of just three words.

[We're family, though.]

I looked at it for a while and kept the money. I didn't send it back the way I used to.

At eleven that night, the family group chat was still going off.

Lily posted pictures of how she'd set up her music room, and Mom praised her taste. Fred said he'd come over that weekend to help her put up shelves. Dad dropped a Mauiro Bay travel guide into the chat and told the three of them to pick a hotel.

Nobody asked whether I'd made it home.

And nobody noticed that what I'd taken from the new house today wasn't just a box of old things.

I set the apartment key on the table, then opened the onboarding notice from the Selth City office.

[Please complete onboarding by 2:00 p.m. tomorrow. A room in the company dorm is being held for you.]

Below it was the train ticket I'd just booked. Departure at 6:05 a.m. Over thirteen hundred miles.

My phone buzzed again. Mom had tagged me in the group chat.

Mom: [Come over for dinner tomorrow night. Your dad bought crab.]

Mom: [Don't stay mad over something so small. Family doesn't hold grudges overnight.]

I didn't reply. I just put my phone on silent and closed the last suitcase.

They all thought I was just a little upset these past few days. A good night's sleep, a few kind words, and in a few days, I'd come back like always.

What they didn't know was that once the sun came up tomorrow, I would never live in that house again.