My younger brother called in tears—his car had been repossessed, and he couldn’t afford rent. I wired him $1,500 without hesitation. A week later, I spotted a photo on Instagram: him grinning beside a jet ski. I texted, furious. He replied with just one word. I opened it, read it twice, then stormed out to confront him.

The word was “Relax.”
It hit me like a slap. Relax? After I bailed him out with my savings—money I was setting aside for a home repair—and he was out living it up by the lake with some shiny new toy? I was seething.

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