My mothers accusations about my failure to help my sick brother drove me to run away after school.
She scolded me for not assisting with my ailing sibling, and as soon as the final bell rang I grabbed my things and fled.
Jeanne sat on a bench in Lyons park, watching autumn leaves tumble and swirl in the chilly wind. Her phone buzzed againa fresh message from her mother, Sophie: Youve abandoned us, Jeanne! Antonin is getting worse, and youre living as if nothing matters! Each sentence sliced her like a knife, yet Jeanne stayed silent. She simply could not answer. Guilt, anger, and sorrow tangled inside her, pulling her back toward the house she had left five years earlier. At eighteen she had made a decision that split her life into a before and an after. Now, at twentythree, she still wondered whether she had chosen correctly.
Jeanne had grown in the shadow of her little brother, Antonin. He was three when doctors diagnosed him with a severe form of epilepsy. From that point on, their home turned into a perpetual hospital room. Their mother, Sophie, devoted herself entirely to himmedication, doctors, endless tests. Their father, unable to bear the pressure, packed his bags and left, leaving Sophie alone with two children. Sevenyearold Jeanne became invisible. Her own childhood faded under the constant care required for Antonin. Jeanne, help me with Antonin, Jeanne, be quiet, dont upset him, Jeanne, wait, now isnt the time. She complied, but each year she felt her personal dreams drift farther away.
As a teenager, Jeanne learned to be practical. She cooked, cleaned, and looked after Antonin while her mother raced between hospitals. Friends from high school invited her out, but she declinedthere was always a need for her at home. Sophie praised her: Youre my rock, Jeanne, yet those words offered no warmth. Jeanne saw the look her mother gave Antonina mix of love and distressand understood she would never receive that same gaze. She was not a daughter, but a caretaker, whose role was to ease the familys burden. Deep down she loved her brother, but that love was tinged with fatigue and resentment.
In her final year of high school, Jeanne felt like a shadow. While classmates discussed universities, parties, and future plans, she could only think of medical bills and her mothers tears. One afternoon, returning from school, she found Sophie in a panic: Antonin needs a new treatment, and we cant afford it! You must help us, Jeannefind a job after the baccalauréat! In that instant something inside her shattered. She looked at her mother, her brother, the walls that had always suffocated her, and realized that staying would erase her completely. She suffered, but could no longer be the person everyone expected.
After graduating, Jeanne packed her backpack and left a note: Mom, I love you, but I have to go. Forgive me. With five hundred euros saved from odd jobs, she bought a ticket to Paris. That night, seated on the train, she wept, feeling like a traitor. Yet her chest also beat with something newhope. She wanted to live, study, breathe, without the constant reminder of hospital corridors. In Paris she rented a dormitory bed, took work as a waitress, and enrolled in nighttime university courses. For the first time she felt like a person, not a cog.
Sophie never forgave her. In the first months she called, shouted, begged: Youre selfish! Antonin suffers without you! Sophies voice cut Jeanne like a blade. She sent money when she could, but insisted Jeanne would not return. Over time the calls grew sparse, yet every message remained loaded with blame. Jeanne knew Antonins condition was dire and her mother exhausted, but she could no longer shoulder that weight. She wanted to love her brother as a sister, not as a nurse. Still, each time she read her mothers words she wondered, If I had stayed, who would I have become?
Today Jeanne leads her own life. She holds a job, has friends, and is planning a masters degree. The past still haunts her. She thinks of Antonin, of his smile on the days he felt better. She loves her mother, yet cannot forget the childhood that was stolen from her. Sophie continues to write, each message echoing the house Jeanne fled. Jeanne does not know if she will ever return, explain herself, or reconcile. One thing is certain: the day the train carried her far from Lyon, she rescued herself. That bitter truth now fuels her forward.
