At a family gathering, my mom slammed her hand on the table. “Look at your sister! She sends us $4,000 every month! You’re such an ungrateful daughter!”

A month passed. Then my father called, sounding uneasy.

“Mara,” he began, “your sister says she’s having… money problems. She couldn’t send anything this month. Do you know what’s going on?”

I smiled to myself. “No, Dad. Haven’t talked to her. Maybe ask her directly.”

By the second month, the worry had started to settle in. My parents called again—Sena had concocted some story about a client failing to pay her. By the third month, Sena herself began to unravel. She called nonstop. She texted. She left frantic voicemails filled with excuses and desperation.

I messed up, okay? I just needed it at the time.
I’ll pay you back, I promise.
Please, Mara. Don’t tell them. It’ll destroy them.