For three years, saying no to these people had felt to me like an act of almost unimaginable difficulty, a door I could not force myself to open, and the difficulty was entirely psychological, entirely a matter of dread rather than of any real obstacle.

There was nothing actually stopping me from refusing Bristol’s demands.

I had always had the money and always had the right and always, technically, had the word no available in my mouth.

What I lacked was not the ability but the willingness to endure the reaction — the tantrum, the guilt, the accusation, the disruption of a peace I had been trained to keep at any cost.

And so I had told myself, year after year, that it was easier to just give in, that the fight was not worth it, that a small yes now would keep the larger peace.

This is the great lie that keeps good people trapped, the lie that saying yes is the path of least resistance.