The morning of my graduation, my mother looked me straight in the eye and said, “We’re taking your sister to Europe. Celebrate on your own.” Then she smiled as if abandoning me on the biggest day of my life was perfectly reasonable.
I didn’t argue.
That confused her more than anything.
For twenty-two years, I had been the quiet daughter. The “awkward” one who wore the same black hoodie until the elbows faded and spent family dinners buried in code instead of competing for attention.
My younger sister, Vanessa, was
