It wasn’t anger, exactly — more of a quiet tension that started to fill the house. I’d notice a half-empty milk carton or an unwashed dish and feel a small flicker of irritation. I didn’t say anything at first, but the thoughts built up until one evening, while clearing the dinner table, I finally spoke.
“If she’s going to live here,” I said, trying to sound calm, “she needs to contribute.”
“Mom,” he said softly, “didn’t she tell you?”
I froze. The tone of his voice made my heart skip. I braced myself, uncertain of what was coming next.
He went on, “She’s been paying part of the groceries and utilities since she moved in. She just didn’t want to make it awkward.”
The Moment Truth Replaced Assumption
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