My sister announced in the family group chat that I was officially banned from the reunion and she made it clear no one was to tell me where it would be. I didn’t argue. I didn’t reply. I simply opened the location pin… and laughed so hard I had to cover my mouth.

My phone vibrates in the cup holder, and the sound is sharp in the heavy stillness of the car. I glance down to see a notification from the messaging group titled Big Family Bash 2026.

I am no longer an official participant in that group because my sister kicked me out weeks ago with a very specific kind of coldness. However, the app is apparently glitchy, or my sister is just tech-illiterate, because I still see the message previews.

The latest text is from my sister, Monica. “Final reminder to everyone that Katelyn is not to be given this address,” she wrote. “She is officially not invited, and if anyone shares the location, you are going to ruin the whole mood for Mom.”

I stare at the words until the screen finally goes dark. A few years ago, a message like that would have destroyed my confidence and left me feeling hollow with shame. I would have called my father to beg for an explanation or texted Monica a long, pathetic apology for whatever imaginary crime I had committed.