My mother-in-law told me to get up at 4 a.m. to cook Thanksgiving dinner for her 30 guests. My husband added, “This time, remember to make everything really perfect!” I smiled and replied, “Of course.” At 3 a.m., I took my suitcase to the airport.

I set my alarm for 3:30 a.m. and closed my eyes, though sleep seemed as impossible as the task waiting for me in a few hours.

Wednesday, 2:47 a.m.

I woke up before my alarm, my body jolting awake from a dream where I was running through an endless kitchen while faceless people shouted orders at me. The house was completely dark and silent, except for Hudson’s steady breathing beside me.

For a moment, I lay there in the darkness, and a strange thought crossed my mind. What would happen if I just didn’t get up? What if I stayed in bed and let the alarm ring? What if thirty-two people showed up to an empty table and had to figure out their own dinner for once?

The thought was so foreign, so completely counter to everything I’d been conditioned to do, that it almost made me laugh. Almost.

But then I imagined Vivien’s face when she arrived to chaos instead of perfection. I imagined Hudson’s confusion when he realized I wasn’t going to fix everything like I always did. I imagined thirty-two people who had made no alternative plans, who had brought nothing to contribute, standing around looking at each other.

And for the first time in years, I felt something other than dread about a family gathering. I felt curious.

I slipped out of bed without waking Hudson and padded downstairs to the kitchen. In the early morning darkness, surrounded by the evidence of yesterday’s prep work, I allowed myself to really think about the unthinkable.

What if I left?

Not forever, not dramatically. Just left. Got in my car and drove somewhere else. Let them handle one meal without me.

The idea was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I’d never, in thirty-one years of life, simply not shown up to something I was expected to do. I’d never let anyone down. I’d never put my own needs before someone else’s convenience.

I made a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, looking at the guest list that still lay where Vivien had placed it two days ago. Thirty-two names. Thirty-two people who were expecting me to sacrifice my sleep, my health, my sanity to provide them with a perfect meal while they provided nothing in return except criticism if things weren’t exactly right.