Boundaries of Love

I never thought it would come to this. I had always imagined family meant comfort,

not confrontation. But here I was, standing in my living room, watching the two

people who had raised me unpacking as if they owned the place. “I told you,

it’s time to leave,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended. Mom looked at me,

her expression a mix of disbelief and hurt. “We’re not going anywhere.

This is your home, yes, but it’s our family. You can’t just throw us out.”

Dad shrugged, like it was all perfectly reasonable. “We’ve been through worse,” he said.

“We’ll stay until you figure things out.” I felt the panic rise in my chest.