I will take a small portion of the money and check myself into the assisted living facility I have spent years dreading. The remainder of the money will be split perfectly down the middle into two irrevocable trusts—one for Devon, one for Amara.

It breaks my heart to leave the home where my husband and I built our lives.

It shatters my soul to know I will spend my final years in a sterile room rather than my own bedroom. But as I listen to the gentle clinking of bowls in the kitchen, I know it’s the only choice I have left. I have to destroy my own comfort to save my family from the war I accidentally started.

I just haven’t figured out how to walk into the kitchen and tell Amara she has to pack her bags.