My sister’s son spit into my plate at dinner and said, “Dad says you deserve it.” Everyone laughed. I quietly got up and left. That night,

The same people whose car insurance I covered when Dad’s truck nearly got repossessed.

The same people who cashed my checks while mocking the career that made those checks possible.

Slowly, I pushed my chair back.

Mom’s face tightened immediately. “Sit down. You’re being dramatic.”

I placed my napkin neatly beside the ruined plate. “No.”

Derek muttered under his breath, “There goes Rachel again. Always the victim.”

I walked toward the front door while laughter followed me down the hallway.

Nobody called my name.

At 9:18 that night, Mom sent a message into the family group chat.

Don’t contact us again. We’re tired of your attitude.

Eric reacted with a thumbs-up emoji.

I stared at the screen for a very long time.