Chloe followed him inside carrying three cages.

Two parakeets shrieked from one.

A white rabbit shook inside another.

The cat flattened itself against the back of an old carrier as though even it understood it had been delivered to the wrong place.

Chloe set all three beside Ernest’s memorial photograph.

No flowers.

No embrace.

Not even “How are you holding up?”

Only animals, food, and instructions.

“Change the water for the parakeets twice a day,” Chloe said, still staring at her phone.

“Don’t give the rabbit lettuce. The cat gets stressed, so don’t let him out. And make sure to clean up properly because it smells awful afterward.”

I stared at her.

“Chloe, I just buried my husband.”

She sighed as if my grief were delaying her vacation.

“Oh, Mrs. Theresa, everyone has problems.”

Austin showed no embarrassment.

He didn’t defend me.

He simply shrugged.

“Besides, that’s why you’re here, Mom. You’ll get bored all by yourself.”

The birds continued screaming.

Beside Ernest’s photograph, the candle flame flickered.

For once, anger didn’t rise inside me.

Instead, I became completely calm.

I studied the cages.

Then my son.

And smiled.

“Of course, sweetie. Leave them with me.”

Chloe paused, clearly surprised by how easily I surrendered.

“We also left you the spare key to our apartment in case you need to fetch more food.”

Austin kissed my forehead casually.

“Thanks, Mom. We can always count on you.”

After they left, those words lingered.

They could always count on me.

That was exactly the problem.

For years, I had been an open wallet, spare bedroom, full refrigerator, and pair of hands ready to clean up everyone else’s problems.

But I didn’t cry that night.

I went to the closet, pulled out my blue suitcase, and packed three dresses, sandals, Ernest’s last bottle of perfume, my passport, and the legal folder my attorney had prepared without Austin’s knowledge.

Then I called Mrs. Mary next door.