“Who supports yours?”
The entire table went silent.
Ryan’s face darkened instantly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Mom snapped, “Emily, don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” I replied calmly. “I’m answering him.”
Ryan laughed bitterly. “You think you’re better than me because you pay bills?”
“No,” I said. “I think I’m responsible because I pay my own.”
Dad slowly placed his napkin on the table.
“Enough.”
Everyone looked at him.
He turned toward Ryan.
“Your sister paid rent here for nine years. You’ve been here four months and paid nothing.”
Ryan’s jaw clenched. “I told you I’m looking.”
“No,” Dad replied. “You’re waiting. And I’m done financing it.”
Mom whispered nervously, “Mark.”
Dad never looked at her.
“Sixty days. Pay rent or move out. Final decision.”
Ryan shoved his chair backward and stormed outside. Brittany followed behind him calling Dad unfair.
Mom quietly cried into her napkin.
For once, nobody expected me to fix anything.
I left after dessert and hugged Dad outside on the porch.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“For letting this continue so long.”
That apology didn’t erase the past.
But it mattered.
By January, Ryan and Brittany moved into a rented duplex across town.
Not because they suddenly became responsible, but because Dad finally locked the door to the financial safety net.
Ryan got a warehouse job. Brittany started working part-time at a dental office.
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