Choosing Peace Over Obligation
A year later, I ran into my sister at a coffee shop.
She looked at me, then at my son babbling in his stroller.
“Lauren,” she said softly. “Maybe we could—”
“No.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. “We’re family.”
“No,” I repeated. “We’re related. That’s not the same thing.”
And I walked out into the sunlight without looking back.
