In real life, we rarely hate our relatives purely. We hate them because we love them. We are disappointed because we expected more. That push-pull—the desire to run away versus the instinct to protect the family name—is what generates endless narrative friction.

Look at Shakespeare’s . The entire plot collapses because an aging father demands performative love from his daughters. Look at Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice . The entire novel is a case study in how terrible parenting (Mr. and Mrs. Bennet) forces the daughters to either replicate dysfunction or fight like hell to escape it.