I looked down at the contract again. Property transfer agreement. My name. Jason’s name. Legal language that would erase ten years of my life with one signature. But what my parents didn’t realize was that something inside me had already changed. Getting married had done that. Because when you spend your whole life being the responsible one, you start believing responsibility means sacrifice. But Daniel had spent the last two years teaching me something different. Responsibility also means protecting what you’ve built. I set the tip of the pen on the paper and signed. My father leaned forward immediately, grabbing the contract before the ink was even dry. Jason let out a low whistle.
“Well,” he said, “that was easier than I thought.”
My mother smiled, relief spreading across her face like sunlight.
“Oh, honey,” she said, patting my arm. “You won’t regret this.”
I didn’t answer. Daniel walked over and took the contract from my father’s hands, glancing at it briefly. Then he nodded and handed it back.
