“Stop faking, get up and clean the mess!” my mother yelled, stepping over me while I lay bleeding, 8 months pregnant after my sister pushed me. All I wanted was to protect my unborn child, but they called me dramatic. I stayed completely silent, letting them pack their bags for my husband’s multi-million dollar gala that night. When my billionaire husband asked where I was, my sister smiled, “She’s trash, we left her at home.” But when they arrived at the VIP venue, security blocked them at the door, and the CEO took the mic to announce…
silence from my father hurt more than I ever anticipated.
It wasn’t enough to make me regret my choice. I would have made the same choice a thousand times over to save Maya. But it was enough to finally mourn the fantasy I had clung to my entire life: the delusion that if things just got bad enough, my parents would eventually choose me.
