My father read his screen, jaw clenching.

“You’re kicking your own parents out of your house?” “I’m ending a living arrangement you stopped respecting,” I said.

“After everything we’ve done to help you these seven months?” I looked past him to the garage, where my boxes still sat dumped on the concrete.

“You tried to banish your pregnant daughter to a freezing garage because Gregory wanted a sunlit office.” My mother stepped forward, hands trembling, reaching for my arm.

“Charlotte, please, we can fix this privately, like a real family.” “You only care about privacy,” I said, stepping back out of her reach, “now that you realize you no longer have the power to control me.” That single sentence silenced the whole driveway.