My sister announced in the family group chat that I was officially banned from the reunion—and made it clear no one was to tell me where it would be. I didn’t argue. I didn’t reply. I simply opened the location pin… and laughed so hard I had to cover my mouth.

I remember the day my stock options vested because I had to go sit in a stairwell for ten minutes after refreshing the account page. The number on the screen didn’t feel like money at first. It felt like a typo, a glitch, some misallocated decimal point. I refreshed three times before the figure stopped looking imaginary and started looking dangerous.

Serious money.

Life-changing money.

The kind of money that not only buys comfort but alters the geometry of your decisions.

The next morning I went to work with a bagged lunch and a neutral expression. When my mother called that Sunday and asked how things were at the office, I said, “Honestly, I’m a little worried about layoffs,” and let her fill the rest of the conversation with stories about Bridget’s latest relationship drama.

I lied constantly after that.

It was not difficult.