The next morning, I woke up to a text from my brother.
“Dad’s furious. Mom hasn’t stopped crying. They said they’re coming back tomorrow with the rest of the family. You need to be there when they arrive.”
I stared at the screen for a long time before typing back just two words.
“Not happening.”
But deep down, I knew this wasn’t going to end with a few texts and an argument in the street. If they were planning to come here to force some kind of family meeting, then I needed to be ready.
I spent the rest of the day thinking about every possible way this could go. I could ignore them. Sure, but I knew them well enough to know that would just make them push harder.
By nightfall, I’d made up my mind.
I wasn’t going to hide.
The next day, I made sure to get home early. I sat in my apartment with the door locked, blinds drawn, waiting for the inevitable knock.
When it finally came, three sharp wraps like a gavvel, my stomach clenched, but I didn’t move from the chair by the window.
“Evan,” Mom’s voice called through the door, muffled, but pleading. “Please open up. We just want to talk.”
I stayed silent.
A moment later, Dad’s voice came harder, louder.
“You can’t ignore us forever. You’re going to face this family whether you like it or not.”
I stood, walked slowly to the door, and put my hand on the knob. My heart was racing, but I wasn’t scared this time.
I was ready.
I opened the door, and there they were. Mom, Dad, my brother, and even my aunt and uncle standing behind them like backup. The whole family gathered in my hallway like some kind of tribunal.
No one said anything at first. We just stood there staring at each other.