Chapter 3

The tension in the house was thick for the next few days. I was quiet, withdrawn. I ate my meals in my room, claiming I had too much studying to do. They didn't question it. My silence was convenient for them. It required nothing.

The breaking point came on a Saturday. I was in the living room, trying to read for my literature class, when my father walked in and stood in front of the TV, blocking my view.

"Chloe, your mother and I need to talk to you," he said, his tone serious.

My mother came in and sat on the armchair opposite me. Lily trailed in behind them, looking uncomfortable, and perched on the edge of the sofa.

"What' s wrong with you lately?" my mother started, her voice laced with accusation. "You' ve been sulking around here for days. If you have a problem, you need to say it. This attitude is not pleasant for anyone."

I looked at her, then at my father' s stern face, and finally at Lily, who was busy examining her fingernails. The injustice of it all, her accusing me of having an "attitude" after what I had discovered, made something snap inside me.

"You want to know what' s wrong?" I asked, my voice low and trembling. "Fine. What is 'Family Trio' ?"

The change in the room was immediate. My mother' s face went pale. My father' s jaw tightened. Lily' s head shot up, her eyes wide with panic.

"I don' t know what you' re talking about," my mother said, but her voice was weak.

"Don' t lie to me," I said, my voice gaining strength. "I saw it. The group chat on your phone. With Dad and Lily. The one I' m not in."

My father stepped forward. "You went through your mother' s phone? That' s a complete invasion of privacy, young lady."

He was trying to turn it around, to make me the bad guy. I wasn't going to let him.

"You' re talking to me about privacy?" I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You made a secret chat to talk about me behind my back. To complain about me. To coordinate asking me for money. You think that' s okay?"

"It' s not like that," Lily piped up, her voice small. "It' s just for silly things, jokes and stuff."

"Silly things?" I turned to her. "Is it a silly thing to call me boring because I tried to help you with your homework? Is it a silly joke when Dad asks Mom when I' m going to start 'paying them back' for my college books? The books I bought with my own money?"

Lily flinched and looked at our parents for help.

My mother found her voice again, this time filled with indignation. "You are twisting our words, Chloe. You' re always so sensitive, so dramatic. We can' t say anything without you taking it the wrong way."

"Taking it the wrong way?" I stood up, my whole body shaking with a fury I had suppressed for years. "How else am I supposed to take it? You want to talk about drama? Let' s talk about my high school graduation. You missed my valedictorian speech because you were 'stuck in traffic,' but you managed to get front-row seats for Lily' s third-grade play. Is that me being sensitive?"

"That was years ago," my father dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You have to let things go."

"Okay, how about something more recent?" I pressed on, my voice rising. "What about my twenty-first birthday? You were all too tired to go out for dinner, so I spent it alone in my room. Two weeks later, you threw Lily a surprise party for her half-birthday. A half-birthday! With a caterer and a DJ. Do I need to let that go, too?"

My mother looked away, a flicker of something-maybe shame, maybe just annoyance-in her eyes. "We were just trying to make Lily feel special. You' ve always been so independent, Chloe. You never needed all that fuss."

"I didn' t need it because I never got it!" I shouted, the sound echoing in the silent room. "I wasn' t independent by choice! I was independent because I had to be! Because you were never there! You didn't raise a daughter; you raised a roommate who paid rent and was quiet."

"That is a horrible thing to say," my mother said, her voice trembling with what sounded like manufactured hurt. "We gave you a roof over your head. We fed you. We clothed you."

"You did the bare minimum required by law," I shot back. "You gave me the things you were obligated to give. But you gave Lily your time. You gave her your attention. You gave her your love. What did you give me? A list of bills I needed to help pay."

The raw truth of the words hung in the air. For a moment, no one spoke. They just stared at me as if I were a stranger who had just kicked down their door.

Then, my father' s face hardened into a cold mask. "If you' re so unhappy here, Chloe, maybe you should think about finding somewhere else to live."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was a threat. The final, undeniable proof. I wasn't part of the family; I was a burden they were willing to cast off the second I stopped being compliant.

A devastating clarity washed over me. This wasn't a misunderstanding that could be fixed with a conversation. This wasn't a mistake. This was who they were. This was the foundation of our family: a hierarchy where I was at the bottom, a resource to be used and discarded.

The fight went out of me, replaced by a deep, hollow ache. I looked at their faces-my father' s anger, my mother' s defensive coldness, Lily' s tear-streaked confusion-and I knew. I was utterly and completely alone in this house.

"You' re right," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Maybe I should."

I turned and walked out of the room, leaving them standing in the wreckage of my shattered illusions. The argument was over, but something much bigger had just ended: my hope that they would ever see me as one of their own.