Just checking in. How’s life in your shack?
I didn’t respond. I deleted it and tossed my phone across the couch. She wasn’t just rubbing salt in the wound. She was daring me to react.
A few days later, Mom called again. This time, I picked up.
“Hannah,” she said softly.
“Megan thinks you should stay at the cabin for a while. It would give everyone space. Things are tense right now.”
I almost laughed.
“Space? That’s rich. She wants me out of the way, and you’re helping her.”
“That’s not true,” Mom insisted. But her voice lacked conviction. “The cabin is yours legally. No one’s taking it away. But
Megan, she feels like you’re holding on just to spite her.”
My jaw tightened.
“She insulted me. Mom, she humiliated me in front of you and everyone else. And now I’m the problem because I won’t roll over and hand her everything.”
There was a pause.
“I don’t want us to drift apart. Please, Hannah. At least go see the cabin. Stay a night. Clear your head. Maybe then you’ll understand.”
Understand what? That my family had chosen Megan over me. That my inheritance was a joke in their eyes.
I wanted to hang up, but I forced myself to breathe.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go, but not for Megan, for Dad.”
The line went silent. Then she whispered, “Thank you,” before hanging up.
