He hung up.

I stared at my coffee mug. I waited for the guilt to arrive, because it always had before. Guilt was the trained dog of my childhood. It came whenever my mother cried, whenever my father raised his voice, whenever Claire called me selfish, whenever Logan needed money “just one last time.”

But this time, it never came. Only sadness arrived. Sadness that I had loved people so deeply who only looked for me when they needed something.

That very Sunday, the family’s version of events began spreading. According to my mother, I had planned to humiliate her. According to Claire, I had hidden my engagement so I could feel superior.

According to Logan, Nathan was an arrogant man manipulating me. According to my aunts and uncles, I should apologize “for the sake of peace.”

The only different phone call came from my grandmother Ruth. “It’s about time, sweetheart,” she said.