Lydia said she only needed one chance.
Dad said family takes care of family.
Mom said I had always been stronger, so it was only fair that I help the one who was struggling.
I asked what they were actually asking for.
Lydia slid the folder toward me.
It was not a loan in any real sense of the word.
It was my savings.
All of it.
Every dollar I had put aside for a down payment, every deployment check I had saved, every bit of freedom I had built one restrained decision at a time.
I told them no.
I told them the money was for a house.
The room changed then.
Not loudly at first.
Lydia’s trembling turned sharp.
Mom’s tears stopped looking sad and started looking offended.
Dad leaned forward, pointed across the table, and said if I would not hand it over, then I was not his daughter.
