I used the same answer three times at Eid

The first question came before I had taken off my coat. “When will we hear good news?” I smiled and said, “We are keeping that private, but thank you for caring.” Then I asked about the food.

An hour later, another relative tried. I used the same sentence. The repetition felt robotic inside my mouth, but inventing a new explanation would have made the boundary sound negotiable.

My partner and I had planned this in the car. He would answer his relatives when he heard them, and either of us could suggest stepping outside. We also agreed not to use a false timeline just to end the conversation.

The third time, someone said I was being secretive. I felt heat rise into my face. I replied, “Yes, this part of our life is private,” and carried plates to the kitchen. It was not graceful. It was clear.

Later, an aunt sat beside me and talked about a television series. She did not ask anything. The relief was so strong I nearly cried.

A short answer cannot control how family interprets it. Kindness does not mean making the answer longer until everyone approves. At the next gathering I may use different words, but I want to keep the closed door—and all the ordinary conversation still available outside it.