“One day you will need your family.”
I stood beside Ximena, who was still moving carefully but standing on her own.
“No,” I said. “Not if this is what family means.”
When the door closed, the house became quiet.
Not the old quiet, full of swallowed words and waiting criticism.
A new quiet.
Clean.
Ximena looked at me. “Are they really gone?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled like she had been holding her breath for years.
That evening, she left her colored pencils all over the kitchen table.
I did not ask her to move them.
For the first time, the mess looked like proof that someone finally felt safe.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.