“Mom.” I cried in the car for ten minutes after I dropped her off at preschool. From that very beginning, I made a promise to her. She would never feel unwanted in my family. Not ever again.

It was a promise I couldn’t keep, no matter how hard I tried.

Tessa got engaged last spring. Big announcement. Big ring. Big, performative Instagram caption. I congratulated her, of course. Maya even made her a card, meticulously cutting out little paper wedding bells and gluing them on with far too much glitter. Tessa said it was “sweet,” then left it in the back seat of her car. I found it there two weeks later, half-crumpled under a Starbucks cup.