Dad got a rare genetic disease. I sold the house and the car to scrape together money, but it still wasn't enough.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I @-tagged those so-called elders one by one in the family group chat.

"Aunt Anna, when Marcus got married, you borrowed $100,000 from my dad for the house. Time to pay it back, right?"

"Uncle Charles, when Brittany was job hunting, you borrowed $50,000 from my dad to grease some palms. She's been working three years now—your finances should be looking better, right?"

"Aunt Hailey, when you opened that beauty salon, you borrowed $200,000 from my dad. Now you've got multiple branches, and your social media is nothing but parties and vacations. Don't tell me you can't come up with the money."

Mom and Dad still wanted to keep the peace with relatives and kept telling me to delete the messages. I wiped my tears hard and, in anger, slammed my phone down in front of Dad.

On the screen, clear as day: a $200 transfer Uncle Charles had sent that afternoon.

"Carrie, your dad being sick makes us very sad too. I discussed it with your Aunt Anna and Aunt Hailey. This $200 is what our three households scraped together. Take it and use it first."

I looked at Dad, hating that he couldn't stand up for himself.

"Either they cough up that money today. Or I'm going to blow the roof off this family!"

1.

Dad's lips moved, like he still wanted to defend his brother and sisters. I cut him off.

"Dad, you don't need to say any more. If there are things you can't bring yourself to say, let me say them. When they borrowed money from you, they opened their mouths and it was tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands. Now that you're sick, they transfer $200—who are they trying to insult? Siblings like that—do you really still want them?"

Mom sat to the side crying silently. Dad was at a loss for words and didn't speak again.

Looking at my parents, already gray at the temples, I felt my heart ache.

Dad had one younger brother and two younger sisters. Grandpa and Grandma died early. As the oldest, Dad started taking on the responsibility of raising his siblings when he was fifteen.

All these years, Dad kept Grandpa and Grandma's last words close to his heart. As long as it was within his ability, as long as his brother and sisters asked, he never refused.

Fortunately, Mom and Dad ran a small business in the city. We weren't rich, but we got by.

But this time, Dad's diagnosis became the last straw that crushed our family.

Even though we got by, we didn't have much savings. The medication for rare diseases wasn't covered by insurance, and chemotherapy plus the expensive imported drugs quickly drained us dry.

We sold the house and the car, and only then did we keep Dad alive until now.

Just as I was thinking that, my phone buzzed. Uncle Charles had sent a message in the group chat.

"Kid, why are you saying things that hurt feelings? We're all one family. Your dad is my own brother. You think you're anxious? You think we're not anxious too? Alright, tonight your Aunt Anna, Aunt Hailey, and I will come over. Whatever needs to be said, we'll talk it through face to face."

Seeing his message, Dad—who had just been dejected—had hope light up in his eyes again.

"Carrie, see? Your uncle and aunts still care about me. He's reaching out to figure things out. I'm fine by myself in the hospital. You and your mom head back. Tonight, talk things through properly with them."

I still wanted to say something, but Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room.

"Let's see what they say tonight first. What if they really are going to pay the money back? Wouldn't your dad's treatment have hope then?"

I nodded without a word and followed Mom home.

At six in the evening, Uncle Charles, Aunt Anna, and Second Aunt showed up at my house together.

The moment they walked in, they sat down at the dining table without so much as a greeting.

"Oh my, sister-in-law, look at these dishes. My brother's not here, and this is how you treat guests?"

"You knew we were coming and didn't even bother to buy groceries ahead of time. You're not taking us seriously, are you?"

Mom looked embarrassed and was about to explain when I stepped in front of her.

"Sounds like Uncle Charles doesn't want to eat today. Then let's talk about paying back the money."

He choked, but instead of responding to me, he turned to my mom.

"What? Is Carrie the one in charge of this household now? My brother isn't dead yet. Since when does a junior get to speak?"

Mom shot me a look, then turned back to the three of them.

"You know Dale's sick. Carrie and I have been at the hospital nonstop—there's barely any food in the house. We rushed back at the last minute and didn't have time to shop. How about this—Uncle Charles, tell me what you want to eat, and I'll run out to a restaurant and pick something up."

She reached to untie her apron.

Watching her, my nose stung so hard I almost cried.

For as long as I could remember, because Dad was the eldest, he took care of his younger siblings. And as the eldest sister-in-law, Mom took care of them too. Every holiday, over a dozen relatives would show up expecting to be fed, and it was always just Mom and me in the kitchen. I complained. I protested. But my parents always said the same thing:

"Before your grandparents died, they made me promise to look after my brother and sisters. I can't break my word."

I stopped Mom from untying her apron and turned to the three of them, their faces still pinched with disapproval.

"Let's talk business first. Uncle Charles, Aunt Anna, Second Aunt—do you remember what I said in the group chat today?"

Uncle Charles cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Come on, kid, we're family. Why say things that hurt feelings? Caroline, you're not that young anymore. You know the economy's been rough these past two years—making money isn't easy. If we had it, would we hold it back? Cut us some slack. Besides, we are helping with your dad's situation. Didn't I transfer you money today?"

Second Aunt chimed in. "Exactly, Carrie. You think running my beauty salon's been easy? It's been losing money—I have no choice. Your dad's my own brother. You think I don't want to help? I just don't have the money. If I did, I wouldn't hesitate."

I looked at the three of them and almost laughed.

"Is that so? No money?"

"Uncle Charles, didn't you spend all of last month bragging that Brittany Abbott got promoted and found herself a rich boyfriend? That you'd be set for life?"

"And Second Aunt—business has been so bad, but you've opened three or four new branches, haven't you? Flying to Bali one week, France the next. Your social media can barely fit all your Hermès."

"Oh, and Aunt Anna—didn't you just pay the down payment on a house for Marcus Abbott? That high-end development downtown? Thirty to forty thousand per square meter. Any unit there costs several million, right?"

My throat tightened. I steadied myself and kept going.

"My dad dropped out of school at fifteen to put every single one of you through college. Even after you got married, he kept helping however he could, terrified you might struggle."

"Now he's lying in a hospital bed, and we didn't even ask you for money. We sold our car. Our house. Everything—to pay for his treatment."

"All we want is the money he lent you. We're not even asking for interest. Why is that so hard?"

Every word landed like a hammer. Uncle Charles, Aunt Anna, and Grandma's faces cycled through pale, then red.

Uncle Charles jabbed a finger at me. "Y-you—you—" He sputtered, unable to form a sentence.

Aunt Anna shot to her feet, probably realizing he had no comeback.

"What's that supposed to mean? That money's ours. We don't need your family's permission to spend it!"

"If we choose to help, that's generosity. If we don't, you have no right to guilt-trip us!"

"Your dad lent us that money willingly. Nobody forced him!"

The dinner ended exactly how you'd expect.

When Mom and I rushed back to the hospital, Dad was still awake. He lay in his bed, watching us with hope written all over his face.

I didn't sugarcoat anything. I told him everything—every word Uncle Charles and the others had said, repeated exactly.

Dad didn't respond. He just lay there, silent.

After a long moment, I heard it. Soft, broken sobs, coming from the bed.

I sighed and stepped out of the room.

I didn't know how to comfort him.

These were his siblings. The brother and sister he'd grown up with, protected, sacrificed for over decades.

No matter how brutal the truth was to accept, I couldn't carry even a fraction of that weight for him.

I didn't go back in all night. I dozed on a hallway bench until dawn started creeping through the windows.

Then I got up and headed home to make breakfast for Mom and Dad.

Walking out of the apartment building, I spotted the lottery shop by the entrance. Something pulled me inside.

When I was little, Dad once told me something I never forgot.

"Never be afraid of hitting rock bottom."

"Because once you're there, the only way left is up."

I'd never bought a lottery ticket in my life. I had the clerk print me a random Quick Pick for the Double Chromosphere.

I tucked it away, grabbed the insulated food container, and hurried back to the hospital.

In the room, I found Joseph Walsh—Mom's older brother.

He had his arms around Mom while she cried, murmuring comfort, a bank card clutched tight in his hand.

"It's okay. I'm here. Take this and use it first."

My eyes burned.

Uncle Joseph caught sight of me in the doorway and waved me over.

"Carrie, there you are. Your mom told me everything. Don't worry—we'll figure this out together."

"As for your dad's relatives..." He paused. "I already talked to Rachel Walsh. Give her a call."

Rachel. Of course—she was a lawyer.

For debt collection, she was exactly who we needed.

I handed Mom the food container and stepped out to make the call.

Rachel moved fast. The very next morning, my phone exploded with messages in the family group chat.

Over a dozen notifications. My hand practically went numb from the vibrations.

"Caroline Gilbert! Are you fucking crazy? We borrowed a little money and you're seriously suing us?"

"We're family! What do you gain from dragging us to court? Does your dad know about this? Does he know his own daughter is being this disrespectful to her elders?"