My stepson, 16, wanted his girlfriend to join our Spain trip. My husband said we could only afford four tickets, so my 18-year-old daughter had to stay home. I felt powerless as we left without her. The airport was loud and full of excitement, yet all I could think about was the empty seat beside me. My daughter had tried to act mature about it, insisting she understood budgets and compromises, but the look on her face when we hugged goodbye told a different story. I promised myself it was temporary discomfort, that once we returned, things would feel normal again. Still, the guilt followed me all the way onto the plane.

During the trip, Spain was beautiful, but I struggled to enjoy it. Every landmark photo felt incomplete, and every family meal reminded me of who wasn’t there. I checked my phone often, relieved whenever my daughter replied quickly, telling me she was fine and keeping busy. My husband seemed relaxed, convinced the decision had been practical and unavoidable. I tried to agree, but a quiet voice inside me kept asking whether “practical” had slowly replaced “fair” in our family without me noticing.