But, why does the idea of seeing him again today feel like the best thing that’s happened to me in… well, forever?

I park the car and sit for a second, trying to shake off the rush of emotions swirling inside me. I know what’s waiting for me inside—my mother’s shrill voice, I’m about to face another round of family chaos.

Just like I anticipated, the moment I step into the waiting area, I’m welcomed by my mother’s sharp voice.

“Wherewereyou? You were supposed to get here the moment I called you,” she snaps, her face pinched with frustration. I barely have a chance to blink before my father’s disapproving frown joins in, the same expression he’s been giving me for years.

“Do you even care about your brother?” he adds, his tone cold, as if I’ve somehow failed a test I didn’t even know I was taking.

I bite the inside of my cheek, swallowing down the bitter words that sit on my tongue. They always make me feel this way,small, like nothing I do is ever good enough. I’m not the child they dote on, I’m the one they tolerate.

My stomach twists with the familiar sense of guilt and frustration. I want to tell them where I was, that I needed a moment to breathe, to think. But I know it wouldn’t matter. It never does.

“Of course, I care, I just stopped by to get coffee,” I say quietly, but the words sound weak even to my own ears.

“So, you stopped by to get coffee after I told you your brother is sick?” My mother’s voice trembles, her eyes wide with disbelief as if I’ve just committed some unforgivable sin. She looks like she’s on the verge of a heart attack, one hand pressed dramatically to her chest.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, she would latch onto that detail. Not the fact that I rushed here as soon as I could. Not the fact that I came down here even though I should be at work. No, it's the coffee that’s the real crime here.

“I just needed a minute,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “I was heading here, but—”

“But you chose coffee over your brother!” she cuts me off, her voice rising to a shrill pitch that makes me wince.

“It was like five minutes, Mom,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “I was just trying to clear my head.”

She throws her hands up in the air, clearly not interested in my reasoning. “Unbelievable! Your brother could’ve been dying, and you’re off getting your little caffeine fix. Do you even care about anyone but yourself?”

How could she even ask me that? I’m literally about to give Billy my kidney. What more could she possibly expect from me?

Thankfully, it’s just us in the waiting area, so no one is taking a front row seat to my family belittling me this time. Small mercies.

I let out a sigh of relief as the doctor walks in, interrupting my mom from what she’s about to say. In a second my parents are all over him, firing off questions about Billy’s condition.

“How is our son? Is he going to be all right?” my mom asks in a breathless rush.

“He’ll be fine,” the doctor replies calmly, glancing at his clipboard. “He has kidney stones.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Kidney stones. Painful, yes, but far from life-threatening. At least my kidneys are safe with me this time.

But, of course, my mother isn’t satisfied. “Is he going to need a kidney transplant?” she asks, her voice rising in pitch, already planning how I’ll fit into this equation.

“No,” the doctor says firmly, but my mom keeps pushing, her words bubbling over in a frenzy.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should test his sister, just in case,” she insists, her eyes briefly darting to me.

My heart clenches at her words, but I stay silent, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The doctor, to his credit, looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes.

“There will be no need for that,” he says, a little sharper this time. “Billy’s kidney stones are treatable. He just needs to start living healthier.”

“Healthy?” my mom repeats, incredulous. “My boy lives healthy!”

The doctor raises an eyebrow, and his voice turns dry. “Billy smokes. A lot. We also found a heavy amount of alcohol and traces of controlled drugs in his system. He needs to cut down on those.”

I almost want to laugh at the look on my mother’s face, like the doctor had just accused her of some great personal failure. Of course, she wouldn’t see the truth for what it is. Billy can do no wrong. He’s her golden boy, no matter what the facts say.

As my parents start arguing with the doctor about Billy’s lifestyle choices, I pull out my phone, texting my boss to let her know I’ll be coming in late.

Her response is almost immediate:No problem, take your time.