family trip,” she added, the words soft but calculated.
I froze.
I knew my grandmother had a little nest egg—money saved from all the night shifts and the meals she skipped so her kids could eat. But I’d always assumed that money was for her security. For emergencies. For her old age.
Algo en mi estiramiento, pero me obligué a respirar.
I told myself that if Grandma agreed, it must mean she wanted this trip as much as we did. I told myself that maybe this was how families worked—everyone