I went home and did something I hadn’t done in months: I called my aunt back.
Not because I suddenly wanted a heart-to-heart. Not because I was over everything. But because I’d learned the hard way that avoidance is not a strategy—it’s a delay that compounds interest.
When she answered, she didn’t say hello. She said, “Finally.”
Classic.
“I’m not calling for an argument,” I said. “I’m calling to set expectations.”
She sighed like I was an inconvenience in her schedule. “Oh, here we go.”
“I’m keeping the apartment,” I said. “And I’m not selling my mom’s things yet. If you want something specific, you can tell me. Otherwise, stop pressuring me.”
Silence.
Then, “You’re being dramatic,” she snapped. “Your mother wouldn’t want you acting like this.”
That line used to work on me. It used to fold me in half.
