Chapter 5: The Fragile Peace
The silence that followed the letter was deafening. No more demands. No more unannounced visits. My sister-in-law blocked me on social media, and for a few months, I lived in a vacuum of estrangement.
It was lonely at first. I had been the family mediator for so long that I didn't know who I was without a crisis to solve. I spent my weekends reorganizing my apartment—the master bedroom, the second bedroom, and the third room, which I turned into a home office and a library.
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I started seeing a therapist to understand why I had allowed myself to be a "low-maintenance" ATM for so long. She told me something that stuck: “You weren't low-maintenance. You were a hostage who was paid to keep quiet.”
I stopped feeling guilty. I started feeling something else: space. Space to breathe, space to work, and space to grow.
