During a family gathering, my grandmother inquired, «Is the $1,500 I send you each month sufficient?» I responded..

My mother burst into tears. Dad cleared his throat and looked at his hands. We, we’ve been using the money for Henry, he admitted.

He has a gambling problem. He got mixed up with the wrong crowd in high school, and it just, escalated. We’ve tried everything, therapists, clinics.

He keeps relapsing. As Dad continued explaining to Grandma, my mind raced back through my childhood. All those times Henry got whatever he wanted.

All those times I was told to be more like him. All those times I went hungry while working two jobs, thinking my grandmother had forgotten her promise. Grandma’s voice cut through the tension.

Everyone, please continue enjoying the celebration without me. She stood up, her face a mask of controlled anger, Robert, Elizabeth, my office, now. My parents followed her without a word, shoulders slumped like scolded children.

I sat frozen in my chair, barely aware of the awkward small talk resuming around me. My cousin Tyler patted my shoulder and whispered, you okay, but I couldn’t even nod. I excused myself and tiptoed to the hallway.

Grandma’s office door was closed, and I pressed my ear against it, straining to hear. The voices were too quiet, which was somehow worse than shouting. I could only catch fragments.

Years of lying, Grandma’s voice. Tried to help him, Dad’s desperate tone. No excuse, Grandma again.

I returned to my seat, pushing food around my plate while my mind raced. Thirty minutes later, my parents emerged from the office. Mom’s eyes were red and puffy.

They didn’t speak to anyone, just grabbed their coats and left without saying goodbye. Five minutes later, Grandma returned, a forced smile on her face. Who’s ready for cake, she asked, as if nothing had happened.

The party continued awkwardly, guests pretending not to notice the elephant in the room. When the last guest had gone, Grandma took my hand. Amanda, I don’t think you should go home tonight.

Stay here for a few days. I nodded, relieved, the thought of facing my parents made me physically ill. The next morning, Grandma sat me down at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

Her eyes were tired, but her voice was steady. I need to tell you everything I learned from your parents yesterday, she said. I never directly paid for yours or Henry’s tuition.

I gave the money to your parents because I trusted them. I didn’t want to deal with bank transfers, seemed too complicated at my age. She took a sip of her coffee, you got a partial scholarship.

Instead of the $100,000 for your education, it only cost $40,000. They pocketed the other $60,000 and spent it on Henry. My hands trembled around my mug…