The text landed just as my kettle clicked off. Three words detonated a decade of being the “good daughter.”
“You’re banned from Thanksgiving, idiot.”
I closed my banking app and flipped six quiet switches. The house I’d been funding for years started to flicker. By the time the turkey was cold, my screen showed 87 missed calls, and I hadn’t even played my ace yet.
My name is Isa Thomas. I am 28 years old, and I am a mid-level financial analyst at Northrest Analytics. In my world, everything has a place. Every number, every projection, every risk. I live in a clean, sensible apartment where the only real color comes from the spreadsheets I review after hours. My job is to identify liabilities, to see a potential default months before it happens. I am good at my job.
I didn’t reply to the text. I looked back at my spreadsheet. Column F. The header just said “Autopay.” It should have been labeled “Family.”
