My older brother Tyler sat at the table with my parents, sipping beer from one of Dad’s glass mugs as if they were celebrating something important that did not include me.
My mother noticed me first and smiled lightly, and that smile made my stomach twist in a way I could not explain.
“Oh, you’re home,” she said in a tone that felt rehearsed.
“Why is my suitcase by the door?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing unease.
Tyler leaned back in his chair with a relaxed, smug expression, already enjoying whatever victory he believed he had secured that day.
“Your work is finished,” he said calmly, as if announcing a completed deal, and then added, “We got what we wanted, so there is no need for you to stay here anymore.”
I stared at him, confused and alarmed at the same time, trying to process what he meant.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling my pulse start to race.
My father chuckled softly, which made everything feel even colder and more deliberate.
“Do not act confused,” he said, as if I was pretending ignorance.
Then Tyler reached into his pocket, pulled out my ATM card, and flicked it onto the table like it was something trivial.