To help with expenses, Ava set up a small table in our yard and began selling crocheted animals she made herself. It wasn’t much, but it was hers—something she chose to do. Neighbors stopped by, offering quiet support. One afternoon, a man on a motorcycle pulled up. When I stepped outside, I recognized him—Marcus, David’s brother. I had believed he had distanced himself from us, but he explained that things had not happened the way I had been told. According to him, his parents had created that distance, telling each side a different story.
