The Texas wind felt sharper that night, like it had learned my name. I stood in the hallway with my cardigan pulled tight, listening to plates settle on the table and laughter drift from the living room—warm, easy, like I still belonged there.

But when I stepped into the kitchen, Chad didn’t even look up. He just set his glass down and said it—calm, casual, like he was reading a grocery list.

“We need to be realistic. We can’t keep adding another person to support.”

My daughter’s eyes flicked to mine for half a second, then dropped to the counter.

“Amanda?” I tried. “Say something.”

She swallowed. “Mom… maybe it’s better if you find something else for now. Just until things settle.”

I waited for the continue reading …