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.

She acknowledged that I’d provided years of unpaid childcare and thanked me for the care I’d given the children.

I nearly cried.

Not because I’d won an argument.

Because for the first time, someone had looked at the facts and recognized how much I’d sacrificed.

Outside the hearing room, Dan walked beside me in silence.

When we reached the elevator, he let out a long breath.

“Wednesday,” he murmured. “I’m finally going to have them on Wednesdays.”

I smiled.

“They’ll love that.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t even know what they usually want for dinner.”

“Tacos,” I answered immediately.

He looked at me.

“Really?”

“Every Wednesday. Ruby likes the crunchy shells, but she takes them apart. Caleb puts hot sauce on everything because he thinks it makes him grown-up.”

Dan laughed softly.

I continued.

“I still have the binder with their routines and emergency information. I’ll make sure you get it.”