Sasha placed a delicate hand on my shoulder, feigning sympathy. “Guys, maybe she could come? It’s her dream after all.”
Maureen smirked beside her, arms crossed. “Mom doesn’t even have money for her own bus fare. How would she pay for Disneyland?”
Mike clapped his hands once, dismissive. “Enough. Karylle, pack our things. We’re leaving in three days. Someone needs to stay here to feed the dogs and guard the house. Make yourself useful for once.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
The same day they’d be boarding their flight to my dream—I’d be walking out the door they slammed in my face.
Later that night, I stood in my room surrounded by cardboard boxes. I was done throwing half of everything already, now I am burning the last of our memories. The flames caught fast, turning silk and leather to ash.
I didn’t even flinch when Sasha stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed, that venomous smile painted on her lips. “When can I expect you to leave? You’ve got such audacity staying here like you’re still part of this family.”
I turned to face her, the fire’s glow dancing across her perfect face. “I will. Soon.”
Her smile sharpened. “Good. And don’t bother coming back. Mike, Nico, your precious daughter—they’re all mine now.” She flicked her hair back and walked away, her laughter dissolving into the crackling of burning memories.
Inside, the phone rang. Mike’s voice was sharp, cold. “Follow up with the travel agency. Make sure the arrangements are confirmed.”
I stared at the burning pile through the window as I dialed. The travel agent picked up.
“Hello, I’m cancelling the travel booking for Mr. Mike Reid and his party,” I said, my voice clear, each word like the slice of a knife. “And I’d like to avail a new ticket. For myself.”
The smell of garlic and onions filled the kitchen as I stirred the soup pot. My hands moved automatically—chop, stir, taste—while my mind drifted above the noise spilling in from the living room.
They were all there—Mike, Nico, Sasha, Maureen—sitting around the dining table, giggling like teenagers about what they’d wear for the big Disneyland trip.
“Oh, maybe I should wear the pink summer dress!” Sasha squealed, her voice syrupy sweet.
“No, no,” Nico cut in, “the red one suits you better. Mike, remember that one?”
Mike laughed, low and easy. “Yeah. Wear the red. You’ll look… perfect.”