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

Over sandwiches at the campus cafe, Grandma dropped another bombshell. I’ve rewritten my will, she said casually, as if commenting on the weather. You’re my sole heir now.

I nearly choked on my iced tea, what, why? Your parents have already received over $250,000 from me. That’s their share. She took a bite of her sandwich.

I’ve informed them of my decision. They weren’t happy, but frankly, I don’t care. Grandma, I don’t need.

It’s not about need, Amanda, it’s about trust. I trust you to use what I leave behind wisely. She looked at me proudly, you’ve handled hardship with grace.

That says a lot about your character. I didn’t know what to say. After years of being the forgotten child, the also ran, suddenly I was being seen.

It was overwhelming. Thank you, I finally managed. Don’t thank me yet, Grandma’s expression turned serious.

Your parents might try to pressure you about this, be prepared. She was right, a week later, Mom and Dad showed up at my dorm unannounced. Sarah took one look at their faces and made herself scarce, mumbling something about a study session.

We need to talk, Dad said, sitting awkwardly on my desk chair while Mom perched on Sarah’s bed. I stared at my parents, these familiar strangers sitting in my dorm room. Mom looked thinner than I remembered, with dark circles under her eyes.

Dad’s hair seemed grayer. What do you want, I asked, my voice colder than I intended. Mom leaned forward, we need you to talk to Grandma about the will.

No hello, no how are you, not even an apology. Just straight to what they wanted from me. Why would I do that, I crossed my arms.

Because we’re your parents, Dad said, as if that explained everything. I laughed, a short, bitter sound that surprised even me. That didn’t seem to matter when you were stealing money meant for me.

Mom’s eyes welled with tears, you don’t understand what we’ve been through with Henry. No, I don’t, because no one told me anything. I sat on my bed, keeping as much distance between us as possible.

All I knew was that I was struggling to survive while you were telling me how great Henry was doing at college. I was starving. I was working two jobs and still couldn’t make ends meet.

You’re exaggerating, Mom said dismissively, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Something inside me snapped, not that bad? Let me tell you what not that bad looks like, Mom. It looks like finishing leftover food off customer’s plates at the cafe because I was so hungry.

It looks like wearing the same three outfits for two years because I couldn’t afford clothes. It looks like crying myself to sleep because my laptop broke and I had no money to fix it. Mom paled, but quickly recovered, your brother needed help.

He has an addiction, it’s a disease. And what about me? What was I supposed to do? Just suffer quietly while you lied to everyone? Dad tried a different approach, Amanda, please. Just tell Grandma that you’ve been fine all this time.

Tell her we’d been supporting you adequately. I stared at him in disbelief, you want me to lie for you? After everything? We’re family, he said, as if that settled it. Family doesn’t do what you did to me, I stood up, shaking with anger…