The Lie About My Home That Unraveled In Front Of My Grandmother

back at me.

“Maya,” she said. My name sounded heavy with questions I wasn’t ready to answer. “What are you doing here?”

My first instinct was to lie. Not because I thought she’d judge me, but because the shame was a physical weight I couldn’t bear to share.

“I’m fine,” I said—the default lie of exhausted women everywhere. “We’re okay. It’s temporary.”

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