Still, my phone sat heavy in my pocket.
I checked it at eight. Nothing. At ten, a weather alert. At noon, still nothing. No call. No text. Not from my parents. Not from my younger sister, Olivia. The people I’d propped up for years with money, problem-solving, and silence. It wasn’t forgetfulness. Forgetfulness is accidental. This was deliberate absence, the kind that only breaks when someone needs something.
The first post stopped my breath.
A flawless photo filled the screen: turquoise water like liquid glass, white sand, palm trees leaning lazily over a resort bar. My family stood at the center. My mother holding a cocktail with a tiny umbrella. My father relaxed in a floral shirt I knew cost more than my first car. Olivia smiling like the world owed her joy. Even my uncle, who once said he couldn’t afford to come to my wedding, raised a glass.
The caption was short and lethal: “A beautiful day for a beautiful family. #Blessed #FamilyFirst.”
They were in Tahiti. Continue reading…
