“You’re being dramatic,” she said quickly, stepping forward. “Don’t ruin this for everyone.”
Ruin.
That word almost made me laugh.
I walked past her, straight to the counter where the travel folder sat—every confirmation neatly stacked, every detail I had handled alone.
Behind me, I heard her already calling Dana.
“Iris is overreacting,” she whispered urgently. “Talk to her.”
Too late.
I picked up my phone.
My hands weren’t shaking.
That surprised me the most.
One by one, I opened the bookings.
Flights — cancel.
Resort — cancel.
Transfers — cancel.
Each click felt quiet. Controlled. Final.
Behind me, my mother’s voice rose.
“Iris, stop—do you realize what you’re doing?!”
Yes.
For the first time, I did.
By the time Dana called, everything was already gone.
“Iris, what the hell did you do?” her voice exploded through the phone.
I leaned against the counter, calm.
“I fixed it.”
“You’ve ruined the entire trip!”
“No,” I said softly. “I just stopped funding it.”
Silence.
Then anger. Accusations. Blame.
But none of it landed the way it used to.
Because in the doorway, Mia had appeared.
Still holding one of the paper rings.
Her small voice cut through everything.
“Mama… are we still going to Bali?”
I looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to say yes just to protect her from disappointment.
I walked over, knelt in front of her, and gently took the paper ring from her hand.
“No,” I said softly.
Her face fell for a second—
then I smiled.
“But we’re going somewhere better.”
She blinked. “Better than Bali?”
I nodded.
“Somewhere we’re actually wanted.”
Behind me, my mother stood frozen.
Because in that moment, she realized something too late—
This wasn’t a loss she could control anymore.
It was a door closing.
And this time—
I was the one who locked it.
