He frowned.
“I remember that.”
“When Khloe wrecked your car, you helped her get another one.”
Mom sighed.
“You’re bringing up everything now?”
“No. I’m explaining why the wedding hurt so much.”
I leaned forward.
“You’ve spent my whole life assuming I can handle disappointment. So you kept giving me more of it.”
She stared at me.
For the first time, she didn’t immediately defend herself.
Then she whispered, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
We sat quietly.
Eventually, Dad opened the folder he’d brought.
Inside was a household budget.
They’d reviewed their recurring bills, reduced several expenses, and contacted their insurance provider about payment options.
Dad had also arranged to take over the remaining subscriptions and household payments that were still in my name.
It wasn’t a perfect plan.
But it was a plan.
He slid the papers toward me.
“I wanted you to know we’re working on it.”
I looked through them.
“Thank you.”
Mom wiped her cheeks.
She still looked unhappy.
I didn’t expect her to change in one conversation.
But Dad had begun taking responsibility.
Khloe had corrected some of the lies she’d told.
And my financial support was no longer something everyone could assume would continue forever.
