For 4 years, I picked up my sister’s kids from school for free. One day I was 37 minutes late, and she screamed at me in front of them: “Not with my children!” Then she shoved me out of her house. I stopped picking them up. 11 days later, the school called me. Then my sister called 6 times. I turned my phone face down.

Mom moved around the kitchen, avoiding my eyes.

I immediately knew they’d discussed everything before I arrived.

Nicole began speaking before I even sat down.

“First, I want you to know I’m not angry anymore.”

I looked at her.

She said it as though she were granting me forgiveness.

“That’s generous,” I replied quietly.

She ignored the comment.

“Dan is trying to get overnight custody every Wednesday. His attorney is using that school incident to argue that my childcare arrangements are unreliable.”

I nodded.

“I know there’s a hearing.”

“He’s trying to disrupt the children’s routine.”

“Dan is their father, Nicole.”

She frowned.

“That’s not the point.”

Then she opened the folder.

“When you testify, you’re going to explain that I’ve been paying you for childcare since Caleb started school.”

I stared at her.

“You’ve never paid me.”

Nicole’s expression hardened.