Not quietly.
Not politely.
The kind of crying that comes from years of exhaustion finally breaking.
Because the last page wasn’t about her.
It was about her brother.
The company-sponsored care program.
Specialized support.
Transportation assistance.
Medical coordination.
Everything.
Charlotte lowered the papers.
“You can’t do this.”
I smiled.
“Actually, I can.”
“But why?”
I laughed softly.
