She had never been able to stand the way my parents poured everything into Agatha, their precious biological daughter, and blamed me whenever there was a conflict for not yielding to my little sister.
All those countless times they left me behind and went out as a family of three, it was Aunt Harriet who came to pick me up and take me home. In my eyes, she was my real mother.
The thought made my nose sting. I couldn't hold back the quiet sobs. She thought I was cold, and she shifted to wrap her arms around me, pulling me close.
That night, for the first time in what felt like forever, I slept soundly. I didn't wake until the sun was high overhead, the smell of a home-cooked meal drifting into the room. Aunt Harriet had already prepared all my favorite dishes.
She was a wonderful cook, and I ate until I was full and content. She worried about my body after the miscarriage and wanted me to rest and build my strength back up.
"Libby, you stay here and rest. I'm going out to pick up some herbal supplements for you."
She insisted on going alone. All she wanted was for me to stay home and recover. I didn't feel right about it, but there was no arguing with her.