My daughter said she couldn’t afford two tickets, so she took my mother-in-law on the trip instead. They left Portland smiling, posting airport selfies, completely sure everything would be waiting for them when they returned.
It wasn’t.
When they came home, the apartment was half empty. Furniture was gone. Appliances were missing. All the things I had paid for over decades had vanished.
So had I.
I’m Miriam Vance. I’m sixty-five, and I spent most of my life keeping the peace by staying quiet. I paid bills, covered shortfalls, and told myself that love meant sacrifice. I liked my routines, my city, and the small comforts of Portland mornings. What I wasn’t prepared for was how easily I was dismissed.
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