“Yeah,” I said, and the word tasted like iron in my mouth.
She pulled back, eyes scanning the crowd. “Where are your parents? I haven’t seen them yet.”
“Travel mix-up,” I lied. “They’re stuck at the airport.”
A half-truth, at least.
Ava frowned. “That sucks. You can hang with my family if you want. My mom already decided you’re her second daughter.”
I smiled, the real kind this time. “I might take you up on that later.”
When she ran off to take photos with her cousins, I pulled out my phone again and checked the confirmation screen.
Transfer complete.
In my personal account, for the first time, the number looked like something substantial. Something that could be turned into a deposit, a chunk of rent, a real shot at not being trapped under my parents’ roof again.
The first FaceTime call came while I was still in my gown, the tassel hitting my cheek as I walked.
Mom.
I let it ring out.
The second and third came in fast succession.
Mom. Dad.
I ignored those too.
On the fourth, I answered.
My mother’s face filled the screen, eyes blazing, mouth already open. Behind her, the airport buzzed—a blur of rushing bodies, flashing monitors, and Lily’s unmistakable hair over my mom’s shoulder.
“What did you do?” my mother demanded, voice jagged, too loud for the phone speaker.
I raised my diploma into the frame.
“Graduated,” I said. “You missed it.”
“We’re at the airport,” she shot back. “Don’t be dramatic. You know we’re planning something big for your sister tonight. That money wasn’t yours to touch.”
“It was half mine,” I corrected calmly. “Legally. Remember? Joint account. My name on the contract. The deposits from the last four years? Those were my paychecks.”
“That is family money,” she snapped. “We agreed. For emergencies. For the good of everyone. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? They’re saying the card was declined.”
