Came home for the holidays, but my mom opened the door and said, “You weren’t invited — this is for family only.” I turned around without a word; minutes later, my sister texted, “Don’t take it personally — you know how you are.” I smiled, froze the joint account, canceled the utility payments, and cut off every card; by morning, my voicemail was full — and the group chat was on fire.

And yet, every year, I got the lease renewal notices, always addressed to me.

I’d ignored them until now.

Greg and I drew up the notice to terminate my part of the lease.

I had every legal right to walk away, especially since I hadn’t been residing there, and there was no formal agreement that I’d stay on.

I filed it, mailed the copy, and waited.

It landed at their house 3 days after New Year’s.

By that point, I’d already flown out to Portland, a city I’d only visited once, but always liked.

I booked a twoe stay at an Airbnb near the river while I figured things out.

On the second morning, I got a text from an unknown number.

“What is wrong with you?”

No context, but I knew the tone.

An hour later, Melanie called again, this time from a new number.