During this time, I instructed my lawyer to cut off all financial support to my family. My monthly contributions had been the backbone of my parents’ leisurely lifestyle, and Vanessa’s seemingly endless social activities. It was time for them to fend for themselves.

The day I received the all-clear from my doctor to return home, the weight of these decisions sat heavy on my chest, a mix of relief and anxiety. I had just settled the twins for their nap when I heard a knock at the door.

Opening it, I was met with the faces of my parents. My father looked disheveled, his usually pristine attire wrinkled and stained. My mother’s eyes were puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Vanessa stood behind them, her arms crossed and her demeanor defiant yet unsure.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice cold and unyielding.

“Myra,” my mother began, her voice a fragile whisper. “We need to talk.”

I invited them in, if only to get this confrontation over with. The home that had once been open and welcoming to them now felt like a fortress I needed to defend.

“We’re sorry,” my father began, breaking the tense silence. “We didn’t realize how serious it was. If we had known…”

I cut him off, the anger I had been suppressing finally bubbling to the surface. “You didn’t care to know. I was bleeding on a gurney, and you chose a concert over your own grandchildren.”

Vanessa shifted uncomfortably, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Myra, come on, it wasn’t just like that…”

“No,” I interrupted again, my voice steady and strong. “It was exactly like that. You had a choice, and you made it clear where I stand in your priorities.”

They tried to argue, to explain, but I held up a hand. “I’m done. You’ve lost me and my support. I need to focus on those who truly matter.”

With that, I ushered them out, the weight of my decision settling in. It was painful, but necessary. For the first time in a long time, my family was just me, Lily, and Lucas—and that was enough.