I told them about the toast and the banana, the meager symbols of a holiday meal that should have been filled with warmth and love. I reminded them of the house they lived in, the roof over their heads, all provided by the very family they had spurned. This was not about a lack of space at the table; it was about a lack of space in their hearts.

Then, I outlined my decision. We would no longer be a part of their lives. I wrote with clarity, informing them that they had lost our trust, and by extension, their place in our lives. They had sent a message loud and clear, and it was time we sent one back.

Mark read over the letter, his silence a testament to his agreement. He added his signature alongside mine, our united front against a shared hurt.

As I sealed the envelope, I felt a mixture of sadness and liberation. Sadness for the family ties severed, for the ideal of family that had been shattered. But liberation in knowing we were choosing to protect Abby, choosing to build a family founded on love, respect, and mutual support, rather than obligation and convenience.