My mother booked a family-support worker for two hours every weekday while she took my older sister overseas to start a conservatory program. The package covered dinner and laundry. If I wanted someone to stay longer, or just sit with me, that cost extra. I was eighteen, old enough to be left alone and young enough to understand exactly what my mother thought I was worth. Then the woman who arrived with a meal-prep bag and a strict timer showed me the difference between paid attention and chosen love. When my mother finally came home, I had to decide whether I still wanted the relationship she was offering.