“Upset?” I said. “No. Upset is when you forget someone’s birthday. Upset is when you argue over dinner. This…”
I gestured toward the crumpled email in Mom’s hands.
“This is betrayal.”
I walked to the door, but before I could leave, Tyler spoke up.
“Hey, Felix,” he said quietly. “You forgot your dish.”
I turned back, and for a moment, our eyes met.
He didn’t look smug or sarcastic.
He looked sad, almost guilty.
I shook my head.
“Keep it. Consider it my contribution to the family.”
Then I left.
I didn’t even realize how tight my chest had been until I got into my car and exhaled.
My hands were trembling on the steering wheel.
For a few minutes, I just sat there staring at the house through the windshield, watching the silhouettes move behind the curtains.
Then my phone buzzed again.
A text from Tyler.
