The tension broke sharply.
“This is punishment,” my mother said.
“No,” I replied. “This is reality. And if you can’t handle it, that says everything.”
My father snapped.
“We’re not spending a week in some circus just to get help from you.”
The word hit the room like a slap.
Circus.
Not a joke anymore. Not hidden behind laughter. Just raw.
I stood up immediately.
“Get out.”
“Your father didn’t mean it like that,” my mother rushed.
“Yes. He did.”
My father pointed at me.
“You’re mocking us.”
“No,” I said. “I’m done excusing you.”
Jordan stood beside me. Calm. Unmoving.
“I stand by my wife.”
That was it for my father.
“I shouldn’t have expected a half-size man to wear the pants anyway,” he snapped. “Hard to stand up to your wife when she’s double your height.”
“OUT!” I shouted.
