“Sweetheart, I heard it.”
Five years without Mom, and I still hadn’t learned how to walk into my own house without bracing for her.
Inside, Dad was already tired. I could hear it before I saw him.
“Lily, come in here, please.”
I went. Angela stood at the counter slicing lemons like she hadn’t just called me a spoiled brat thirty seconds before he pulled into the driveway.
Two thousand followers.
“I was only trying to help her with laundry,” Angela said gently. “She snapped at me, Mark. Again.”
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