to go.
And I didn’t have to wait long.
The following week, the cracks began to show.
My father was never the type to wait patiently when he thought he had leverage.
And Daniel, well, Daniel thrived on rubbing salt in wounds.
It started with little things, snide comments, subtle reminders, and attempts to corner me into giving them what they wanted.
A few days after the dinner, I stopped by my parents’ house to pick up some tools I had stored in their garage.
As soon as I walked in, Daniel was sprawled on the couch with his shoes off, watching TV.
He muted it just long enough to say, “So, when are you handing me the keys? Might as well save yourself the trouble and get it over with.”
He said it casually, as though it was already a done deal.
I didn’t answer.
I just grabbed what
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