“What happens now?” My voice remained steady, icier than I had ever heard it. He pushed his chair away without saying another word.

Someone, maybe Mom, maybe one of our cousins, asked, “What’s happening?”

I turned around, still composed, still quiet. “This is the final time you’ll see us.”

Their expressions froze, mouths half-open, hands suspended in midair. Nobody laughed.

Then I reached for Olivia’s hand.

She didn’t resist. She simply let me guide her away from the table, her little fingers shaking inside mine.

We walked out of that