Her words hit me like a physical blow, the casual cruelty of them cutting deep. I felt my eyes sting with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of her.
"I don't need you to remind me that she's gone," I whispered, my voice trembling with the effort it took to keep it steady. "But her things—they're all I have left of her. And you just got rid of them like they meant nothing."
"Of course they meant something," Hannah snapped, her voice sharp. "But this obsession you've developed, it's unhealthy. Your mother—"
"Don't you dare talk about her like you knew her," I said, my voice rising again, the anger burning away the pain. "You don't get to tell me how to feel about her. You don't get to take everything from me and then act like you're the victim."
Hannah's eyes wide
