For a whole year, I’d let Mom act like she still owned the place. It was easier than fighting… until everything changed one rainy May afternoon.
I heard the front door slam open and the unmistakable sound of multiple suitcases rolling across the hardwood floors my father had lovingly restored years ago.
Anyone home?” my brother Tyler’s voice boomed through the house.
When I stepped into the entryway, I froze. Tyler stood there with his wife, Gwen, and at least eight massive suitcases.
“What’s all this?” I asked, my stomach already knotting.
Tyler grinned, setting down a duffel bag. “Surprise!
Our lease ended, and we thought — why waste money on rent when there’s plenty of space here?”
“You’re… moving in? Did you talk to Mom about this?
She didn’t tell me anything…”
“Of course they did,” Mom said, appearing behind me. “I told them it was a wonderful idea.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop 10 degrees.
“What did you just say to me?”
“I said this isn’t your house, Mom.
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