Chapter 1

During Thanksgiving, my daughter tripped over the clutter in the living room and burst into tears from the pain.

My mother-in-law snapped and smacked her on the knee. "All you ever do is cry, you worthless girl. You've ruined the whole holiday mood. Go cry somewhere else."

My husband turned up the volume on his game, pretending he couldn't hear a thing.

I shoved my mother-in-law aside and carried my daughter out the door.

*****

It was Thanksgiving. Outside, the moon was full and bright, but inside, it was nothing but domestic chaos.

The 3,000-square-foot river-view apartment my parents gave me before I got married, with its ultra-modern living room, was now cluttered with boxes and bags.

My mother-in-law, Bianca Kemp, was checking things off a list, while my father-in-law, Damon Meyers, was cooking in the kitchen. There was no exhaust fan, no closed door, so the whole living room was filled with greasy fumes.

My brother-in-law, Jonathan Meyers, was sprawled on the couch, gnawing on a chicken wing, grease splattering all over my white imported carpet.

And my husband, Felix Meyers, was sitting in the living room, lost in his computer game. The sounds of virtual battles echoed nonstop.

The whole scene was downright absurd.

My daughter, who had started kindergarten, tiptoed around all the clutter in the living room and came over to me.

"Mommy, I want to dance," she said.

I crouched down, held her tiny hand, and said softly, "Your teacher's off today. How about we dance in our studio at home?"

My daughter, Mila, loved dancing, so I even converted a bedroom into a dance studio for her.

That way, she could practice anytime, even when her dance school was closed for break.

When I took my daughter into the dance studio, I found the once spacious room was now piled high with all kinds of stuff.

"Bianca, why'd you put all this stuff in Mila's dance room?" I asked.

I went back to the living room, and Bianca turned to me, looking irritated.

"It's just one bedroom. Why are you making such a fuss?" she said sharply.

"Didn't we agree to only keep things in the living room for now?" I replied, doing my best to stay calm.

"Your family was so generous with the gift, there's no way it all fits in the living room. Unlike you, so stingy and petty. We're all family. Why bother dividing things up? And what does a little girl need such a big room for anyway?" Bianca scoffed.

It was that whole "we're family" line that kept making me cave, again and again.

After Mila was born, my in-laws moved in, supposedly to help with the baby. But all they did was dance or play poker all day, and they never hid their disappointment that Mila was a girl.

Early last year, Jonathan brought home a girlfriend, said he'd crash for a few days to introduce her, but then he stuck around and never left.

Now, with Jonathan finally about to get married and move out, Bianca had packed the house so full of her stuff that there was barely a spot left to stand.

I could put up with almost anything, but I couldn't stand them disrespecting Mila.

I went back to the dance studio and started moving everything out, piece by piece.

Bianca was yelling behind me, "What are you doing? This stuff is expensive! What if you break something?"

I didn't say a word. I kept hauling everything out, trip after trip, until the dance studio was finally cleared out.

Dinner was ready. After her dance and bath, Mila changed into fresh pajamas. She carefully weaved her way through the mess in the living room, doing her best not to trip over anything.

But kids didn't always notice everything. Mila stumbled over an open box next to the couch, and the glass cups inside tumbled out, shattering on the floor.

She clutched her knee and burst into tears.

"It hurts, Mommy. My knee hurts," she cried.

I hurried over and gently lifted Mila onto the couch. Seeing her knee bleeding made my heart twist with worry. I grabbed the first aid kit, ready to patch her up.

Felix barely looked up at Mila, then kept playing his game as if nothing had happened at all.

I bit back my anger and soothed Mila while I cleaned and bandaged her knee.

Mila tried to move her hurt leg, but accidentally bumped into the action figure Jonathan had left on the couch. She started crying even harder.

Jonathan immediately scooped up his action figure like it was his most prized possession, grumbling, "Can you watch where you're going? This thing's expensive!"

I was too worried about Mila's leg to argue with him right now.

I went to the bedroom, changed into something clean, grabbed my purse, and was about to take Mila to the hospital for a checkup.

Suddenly, Mila was screaming her heart out in the living room.

I rushed back in and saw Bianca smacking Mila's injured knee, snapping at her with obvious disgust.

She snapped, "You worthless girl, all you ever do is cry! You've ruined the whole holiday mood. Go cry somewhere else!"

She called my daughter a worthless girl. It felt like the final straw crushing me.