I stopped, her words sinking in, but they didn't hit the way she wanted them to. Instead, they just made me angrier. Partly because I didn't realize why we were having this conversation to begin with.
"I had no idea you were this jealous," I said, my voice low, trembling with the effort to keep calm. "Yes, Dad might have given me some special treatment, but that was only because my mother died early. He was overcompensating."
Trisha scoffed, her expression twisting into something bitter, almost hateful. "Don't speak about my experience because you didn't live it. Father was never there for me."
"That's a lie," I shot back, my frustration boiling over. "A lie orchestrated by your mother to demonize him."
"Why would that be the case when my mother idolized that deadbeat?" Trisha snapped,
